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is someone gonna match my freak and actually like ftwd??
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.
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Six
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 maybe they get a little tipsy), brief mention of blood/medical stuff, joking about getting someone drunk
Word count: 2.6k
For the most part, the ride back was silent. I stared out the window, overthinking about everything I had said to Daryl over and over again. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but the silence was comfortable this time. Just before we got back, he finally spoke up.
“Why do ya go by Vector?”
“Hmm?” His lovely voice pulled me from my dissociation.
“Ya name. Why do ya go by Vector?”
I thought for a moment about what to say. No one had ever asked me why I never went by my first name. It was still a rather sore subject, not gonna lie, but I didn’t want to shut him down from conversation now that he was seemingly starting to open up. I thought of what to say as I went.
“Well…Vector is who I am now. I’ve, uh…had to do some things that past me can’t handle. Thus, Vector was born.” I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing “Me before used to sing in the shower, wear sundresses, dance in the street, pick flowers on walks, smile with my teeth out…shit like that. Haven’t done any of that in God knows how long.”
We pulled around to the front gate, and Daryl made some kind of signal out his window to indicate it was us. He parked around the front, where the car was before, and jumped out and around to the back. I followed suit, him saying something about going out hunting with one of the other guys shortly.
“Hey Daryl?” He set the boxes that he had grabbed down and turned his gaze to meet mine. I gave him a soft smile. “Thanks for asking. No one’s ever bothered to ask me about that before.” He simply nodded and went back to what he was doing. I heard footsteps running up behind me, so I turned to see Maggie practically running into me.
“Eric’s looking for you,” she said. The tone in her voice didn’t indicate there was any kind of urgency, but given that someone was looking for the doctor, and that this person was the partner of the person who likely needed medical attention most, I had reason to be concerned.
I turned to Daryl. ”Do you want help before I go?”
“Nah,” he scoffed, using his hand to make a “shoo, go away” motion, “go on, doc.” I turned and walked off with Maggie in the direction of Eric and Aaron’s place.
“Hey, Rosita and I are getting together tonight. Michonne’s got Judith duty, so we’re gonna keep her company. You should come.” Excitement built up in my chest at the thought of possibly having a group of girlfriends again. "We’re gonna chat, get wine-drunk, maybe talk a little too intimately about our gentleman callers. It’ll be fun.”
“That sounds awesome. Yeah, I’ll for sure be there,” I replied, “and uh, Maggie…thank you again. For everything you’ve done for me since I got here.” I stopped her and gave her a hug. “You’re a good friend.”
“It’s not a problem, really. Us gals gotta stick together, right?”
“Damn straight. Wait, I have something to show you.” I dropped my bag to the ground and dug into it, pulling out the two small boxes of tampons I managed to find. "Look what the hell I found!” She grabbed the boxes from me, flipping them around until she realized what they were.
“Damn, this stuff’s like gold around here,” Maggie laughed.
“That’s what I said,” I replied, chuckling and taking the boxes back from her, shoving them back into my bag.
“Anyway, Rosita and I will stop and get you on our way to Michonne and Rick’s.” I smiled in response, and she walked off, myself continuing over to Eric and Aaron’s. Eric was sitting on the steps of their front porch, reading a novel of some sort.
“You were looking for me?” I asked him. He tilted his head up from his book and practically leaped up when he saw me. I was impressed with the speed at which he brought himself to his feet.
“Aaron said he needed to see you when you got back,” Eric explained, opening the door for me and letting me in in front of him, “he didn’t say why.” I unzipped my boots and kicked them off, leaving them by the front door. He sounded worried, as any partner would.
“Well, hopefully, it’s not too bad then,” I reassured, “you wait here, and I’ll come get you if he asks. Y’know, doctor-patient confidentiality and whatnot.” He nodded and stepped back out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. I tried to remember what sorts of medications I grabbed on my run, in case I needed to access them quickly.
I knocked softly on the door and announced myself before entering. “Hey Aaron, it’s Vector.” I stepped in, and he was laying in the same spot on the bed I’d left him in. I didn’t immediately notice and bleeding from his leg, no discoloration in his face or arms, no rashes I could see, and he wasn’t making any kind of face to indicate that he was in immense pain. In fact, he was smirking. “You needed me?” He giggled and gestured for me to sit down on the floor next to him.
“Nah, I just wanted to know how your run with Daryl went.” I felt my eyes rolling so hard, I could practically see the inside of my skull. I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Dude,” I huffed, “you cannot scare me like that. And Eric. He was really concerned something was wrong.”
“Yeah, not my best move. But you said not to tell anyone. How else was I supposed to get you here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, ask,” I sassed, “but anyway, do you want to know or not?” He nodded, and I plopped myself down cross-legged on the floor next to the bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I spent probably half an hour with Aaron, explaining how the run went and me overthinking and over-analyzing every single little thing that both of us said and did. Afterwards, I went and reassured Eric that everything was fine without giving away any info about Aaron having lied to get me there.
I came back to an empty house, so I figured Daryl was out hunting. Not knowing how long I’d have to myself, I took the time to do some cleaning up. It wasn’t terrible in there, but to sum it up nicely, you could tell a man lived there alone until yesterday. I had to borrow cleaning supplies from Carol after not being able to find any around the house.
“I’m glad you’re here. Someone’s gotta keep that place clean,” she joked.
I had retrieved some produce and herbs from the garden, which felt like such a treat. Being able to pick fresh produce after so long was like a dream. I used them to make soup for dinner, which I made a larger batch of to leave some for Daryl. I knew I wasn’t obligated to cook for both of us, but I enjoyed making food for other people. While it cooled, I took a quick shower, as I didn’t have to wash my hair this time, and changed into a workout set I had brought with me, consisting of a pair of black spandex shorts and a black sports bra that was more built like a crop top. To kill time until my new friends came, I sat down next to the window in my room and opened it up to allow the breeze in.
I folded my arms and rested them on the windowsill, resting my chin on them. I could see some of the other residents of Alexandria, whom I didn’t know very well, and Carol working out in the garden. The sun was going to start going down soon, and I wondered if Daryl was going to be back before it got dark. Sure, he was a strong guy, and he could clearly take care of himself, but I felt more comfortable knowing he was safe inside the walls.
A bright little butterfly came over and joined me, fluttering around my head. I slowly put my hand out, sticking my index finger out on the off chance that they would land on me. Surprisingly, and lucky for me, they gracefully landed on the padding of my finger.
“Hi my sweet,” I whispered as to not scare them. As a kid, I had a fascination with butterflies, moths, any pollinators really. When my mom wasn’t being the best family law attorney around, she was in her garden, tending to her flowers. She made sure to teach my siblings and me the importance of the local pollinators. Butterflies, bees, hummingbirds…they all made me think of her. “Aren’t you just the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen?”
They stood on my finger for a bit, sometimes adjusting their footing and flapping their wings softly, as if to show off their bright hues. All I could think about was how much my mom would love this. She’d be gushing quietly, tiptoeing over to retrieve her phone to snap a picture.
I had an idea, and I slowly began to lift my hand toward my face. I closed my eyes as to not intimidate them with my large peepers and brought my finger to the tip of my nose. I felt their little legs moving around, and they made their way onto my nose. I smiled, keeping it small so I didn’t hit their wings with my cheeks. They continued moving their wings occasionally, and I did feel them tickle my face a couple of times, which made me giggle softly.
I felt them turn their body around to face back out the window. I lifted my index finger back to my nose, and they scuttled back across to it. “Thank you, sweetheart.” I gently put my hand out the window, and with that, they gave a few more beats of their wings before flying away. If I believed differently, I would’ve thought that was my mother coming to greet me. But I didn’t believe in any of that stuff.
I sat there for a few moments, watching them fly away off toward the community garden. I hoped they would grace the other residents with their presence as they had graced mine. I shifted myself around to get up, and I saw Daryl leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, watching me. I almost had a heart attack from being startled.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, falling back onto the window, “how long have you been standing there? You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t even hear you come in.” He didn’t acknowledge my question, or anything else I said, in his response.
“Maggie ’n Rosita are here for ya.”
“Oh, sick.” I got up and slid past him, our arms brushing as I went by. That moment felt like forever, the moment that my skin met his, and it gave me goosebumps and nearly had me tongue-tied as I tried to talk. “I, uh, made dinner. It shouldn’t be scalding now. You’re welcome to whatever you want of it.” He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Thanks,” was all he said. He kept his position in the door frame, arms still crossed. I scurried down the stairs to my boots and quickly put them on, opening the door to see my friends. I turned back to Daryl.
“See ya later.” I gave him a smile before closing the door and following Maggie and Rosita. They were looking at each other, the looks on their faces communicating things they weren’t saying out loud.
Michonne answered the door with Judith in her arms, and she seemed excited to have the company. Her face was beaming. I figured this was something these three did often, got together and just had girl time. I hadn’t had girl time in years.
“What are Rick and Carl up to tonight?” I asked, propping myself up on one of the bar stools next to Michonne. Judith was giggling and babbling, looking around at the rest of us with the fascination only babies possessed.
“I don’t know, father and son target practice or some shit,” Michonne explained, “said Glenn and some of the other guys were gonna join.”
“I’m gonna pour myself a glass,” Rosita said, walking into the kitchen, “rest of you want one?” Michonne and Maggie giggled and nodded. “Vector?” I fidgeted a little in my seat.
“I don’t know. I don’t think Alexandria’s only medical professional should be drinking. Plus, I’m a bit of a lightweight.”
“Oh come on, this is what we’re here for,” Maggie exclaimed, “to drink a little too much and act like everything hasn’t gone to shit.”
“You’re here now. It’s safe. You can relax a little bit,” Michonne assured.
“Ok, but just one,” I replied, “If I drink too much, I’ll start saying things I don’t wanna.” The three exchanged glances and smirked.
“We’re gettin’ her drunk, right?” Michonne said to them, smiling.
“Oh yeah,” Rosita laughed, followed by Maggie’s “absolutely.” I rolled my eyes and accepted the glass Rosita held out to me. I wasn’t much of a red wine drinker, but with how much of a lightweight I was, wine was the safest option.
The evening turned into a gossip session. They asked me a lot of questions about my life before this, and I theirs, and what got me interested in being a doctor. I got to hear way too many details about the sex lives of Maggie & Glenn and Rick & Michonne. Maggie made a comment about something Glenn liked, and I nearly spat my drink out.
“I’m going to try to forget about that,” I laughed.
Minutes turned into hours, and I was eventually two glasses deep, despite my initial protest of only one. Michonne attempted to hand me a third. I was already tipsy, but like Michonne said, I could relax a little bit. I would start being a serious community member tomorrow.
“What about you, Vector? How are you getting on with everyone?”
“Everyone here’s been wonderful. Y’all are so kind. I can tell that people here really care about each other. Thanks again for letting me stay,” I said, holding my glass up as if I was giving a toast.
“Anyone here particularly wonderful?” Maggie asked, chuckling. I bit my bottom lip. I knew what she was asking, but I hoped feigning ignorance would change the subject.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there anyone you’re interested in…romantically or otherwise?” I couldn’t say I didn’t try.
“Well, seeing how many of the men here are taken, the options are limited.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” She eyed me as I took another sip of my wine. "If we guess it right, will you tell us?” I swirled the drink in my hand, my heart rate picking up as my anxiety spiked.
“Again, the options are limited, you’d eventually get it right, so I guess yeah, go for it.” They squealed like a group of girls in high school and started naming off the male residents, all of which I either said no or shook my head to.
“Does that just leave Daryl? No…is it Daryl?” Michonne asked. I could feel myself starting to turn red, and their faces began to light up at the realization that they had got it right. I averted my gaze from the group. They were squealing like a bunch of high-school girls. Rosita practically jumped out of her chair.
“You’re blushing so hard right now!” she yelled, pointing at me.
“I have got to figure out how to stop doing that,” I mumbled to myself.
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Six
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 maybe they get a little tipsy), brief mention of blood/medical stuff, joking about getting someone drunk
Word count: 2.6k
For the most part, the ride back was silent. I stared out the window, overthinking about everything I had said to Daryl over and over again. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but the silence was comfortable this time. Just before we got back, he finally spoke up.
“Why do ya go by Vector?”
“Hmm?” His lovely voice pulled me from my dissociation.
“Ya name. Why do ya go by Vector?”
I thought for a moment about what to say. No one had ever asked me why I never went by my first name. It was still a rather sore subject, not gonna lie, but I didn’t want to shut him down from conversation now that he was seemingly starting to open up. I thought of what to say as I went.
“Well…Vector is who I am now. I’ve, uh…had to do some things that past me can’t handle. Thus, Vector was born.” I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing “Me before used to sing in the shower, wear sundresses, dance in the street, pick flowers on walks, smile with my teeth out…shit like that. Haven’t done any of that in God knows how long.”
We pulled around to the front gate, and Daryl made some kind of signal out his window to indicate it was us. He parked around the front, where the car was before, and jumped out and around to the back. I followed suit, him saying something about going out hunting with one of the other guys shortly.
“Hey Daryl?” He set the boxes that he had grabbed down and turned his gaze to meet mine. I gave him a soft smile. “Thanks for asking. No one’s ever bothered to ask me about that before.” He simply nodded and went back to what he was doing. I heard footsteps running up behind me, so I turned to see Maggie practically running into me.
“Eric’s looking for you,” she said. The tone in her voice didn’t indicate there was any kind of urgency, but given that someone was looking for the doctor, and that this person was the partner of the person who likely needed medical attention most, I had reason to be concerned.
I turned to Daryl. ”Do you want help before I go?”
“Nah,” he scoffed, using his hand to make a “shoo, go away” motion, “go on, doc.” I turned and walked off with Maggie in the direction of Eric and Aaron’s place.
“Hey, Rosita and I are getting together tonight. Michonne’s got Judith duty, so we’re gonna keep her company. You should come.” Excitement built up in my chest at the thought of possibly having a group of girlfriends again. "We’re gonna chat, get wine-drunk, maybe talk a little too intimately about our gentleman callers. It’ll be fun.”
“That sounds awesome. Yeah, I’ll for sure be there,” I replied, “and uh, Maggie…thank you again. For everything you’ve done for me since I got here.” I stopped her and gave her a hug. “You’re a good friend.”
“It’s not a problem, really. Us gals gotta stick together, right?”
“Damn straight. Wait, I have something to show you.” I dropped my bag to the ground and dug into it, pulling out the two small boxes of tampons I managed to find. "Look what the hell I found!” She grabbed the boxes from me, flipping them around until she realized what they were.
“Damn, this stuff’s like gold around here,” Maggie laughed.
“That’s what I said,” I replied, chuckling and taking the boxes back from her, shoving them back into my bag.
“Anyway, Rosita and I will stop and get you on our way to Michonne and Rick’s.” I smiled in response, and she walked off, myself continuing over to Eric and Aaron’s. Eric was sitting on the steps of their front porch, reading a novel of some sort.
“You were looking for me?” I asked him. He tilted his head up from his book and practically leaped up when he saw me. I was impressed with the speed at which he brought himself to his feet.
“Aaron said he needed to see you when you got back,” Eric explained, opening the door for me and letting me in in front of him, “he didn’t say why.” I unzipped my boots and kicked them off, leaving them by the front door. He sounded worried, as any partner would.
“Well, hopefully, it’s not too bad then,” I reassured, “you wait here, and I’ll come get you if he asks. Y’know, doctor-patient confidentiality and whatnot.” He nodded and stepped back out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. I tried to remember what sorts of medications I grabbed on my run, in case I needed to access them quickly.
I knocked softly on the door and announced myself before entering. “Hey Aaron, it’s Vector.” I stepped in, and he was laying in the same spot on the bed I’d left him in. I didn’t immediately notice and bleeding from his leg, no discoloration in his face or arms, no rashes I could see, and he wasn’t making any kind of face to indicate that he was in immense pain. In fact, he was smirking. “You needed me?” He giggled and gestured for me to sit down on the floor next to him.
“Nah, I just wanted to know how your run with Daryl went.” I felt my eyes rolling so hard, I could practically see the inside of my skull. I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Dude,” I huffed, “you cannot scare me like that. And Eric. He was really concerned something was wrong.”
“Yeah, not my best move. But you said not to tell anyone. How else was I supposed to get you here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, ask,” I sassed, “but anyway, do you want to know or not?” He nodded, and I plopped myself down cross-legged on the floor next to the bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I spent probably half an hour with Aaron, explaining how the run went and me overthinking and over-analyzing every single little thing that both of us said and did. Afterwards, I went and reassured Eric that everything was fine without giving away any info about Aaron having lied to get me there.
I came back to an empty house, so I figured Daryl was out hunting. Not knowing how long I’d have to myself, I took the time to do some cleaning up. It wasn’t terrible in there, but to sum it up nicely, you could tell a man lived there alone until yesterday. I had to borrow cleaning supplies from Carol after not being able to find any around the house.
“I’m glad you’re here. Someone’s gotta keep that place clean,” she joked.
I had retrieved some produce and herbs from the garden, which felt like such a treat. Being able to pick fresh produce after so long was like a dream. I used them to make soup for dinner, which I made a larger batch of to leave some for Daryl. I knew I wasn’t obligated to cook for both of us, but I enjoyed making food for other people. While it cooled, I took a quick shower, as I didn’t have to wash my hair this time, and changed into a workout set I had brought with me, consisting of a pair of black spandex shorts and a black sports bra that was more built like a crop top. To kill time until my new friends came, I sat down next to the window in my room and opened it up to allow the breeze in.
I folded my arms and rested them on the windowsill, resting my chin on them. I could see some of the other residents of Alexandria, whom I didn’t know very well, and Carol working out in the garden. The sun was going to start going down soon, and I wondered if Daryl was going to be back before it got dark. Sure, he was a strong guy, and he could clearly take care of himself, but I felt more comfortable knowing he was safe inside the walls.
A bright little butterfly came over and joined me, fluttering around my head. I slowly put my hand out, sticking my index finger out on the off chance that they would land on me. Surprisingly, and lucky for me, they gracefully landed on the padding of my finger.
“Hi my sweet,” I whispered as to not scare them. As a kid, I had a fascination with butterflies, moths, any pollinators really. When my mom wasn’t being the best family law attorney around, she was in her garden, tending to her flowers. She made sure to teach my siblings and me the importance of the local pollinators. Butterflies, bees, hummingbirds…they all made me think of her. “Aren’t you just the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen?”
They stood on my finger for a bit, sometimes adjusting their footing and flapping their wings softly, as if to show off their bright hues. All I could think about was how much my mom would love this. She’d be gushing quietly, tiptoeing over to retrieve her phone to snap a picture.
I had an idea, and I slowly began to lift my hand toward my face. I closed my eyes as to not intimidate them with my large peepers and brought my finger to the tip of my nose. I felt their little legs moving around, and they made their way onto my nose. I smiled, keeping it small so I didn’t hit their wings with my cheeks. They continued moving their wings occasionally, and I did feel them tickle my face a couple of times, which made me giggle softly.
I felt them turn their body around to face back out the window. I lifted my index finger back to my nose, and they scuttled back across to it. “Thank you, sweetheart.” I gently put my hand out the window, and with that, they gave a few more beats of their wings before flying away. If I believed differently, I would’ve thought that was my mother coming to greet me. But I didn’t believe in any of that stuff.
I sat there for a few moments, watching them fly away off toward the community garden. I hoped they would grace the other residents with their presence as they had graced mine. I shifted myself around to get up, and I saw Daryl leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, watching me. I almost had a heart attack from being startled.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, falling back onto the window, “how long have you been standing there? You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t even hear you come in.” He didn’t acknowledge my question, or anything else I said, in his response.
“Maggie ’n Rosita are here for ya.”
“Oh, sick.” I got up and slid past him, our arms brushing as I went by. That moment felt like forever, the moment that my skin met his, and it gave me goosebumps and nearly had me tongue-tied as I tried to talk. “I, uh, made dinner. It shouldn’t be scalding now. You’re welcome to whatever you want of it.” He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Thanks,” was all he said. He kept his position in the door frame, arms still crossed. I scurried down the stairs to my boots and quickly put them on, opening the door to see my friends. I turned back to Daryl.
“See ya later.” I gave him a smile before closing the door and following Maggie and Rosita. They were looking at each other, the looks on their faces communicating things they weren’t saying out loud.
Michonne answered the door with Judith in her arms, and she seemed excited to have the company. Her face was beaming. I figured this was something these three did often, got together and just had girl time. I hadn’t had girl time in years.
“What are Rick and Carl up to tonight?” I asked, propping myself up on one of the bar stools next to Michonne. Judith was giggling and babbling, looking around at the rest of us with the fascination only babies possessed.
“I don’t know, father and son target practice or some shit,” Michonne explained, “said Glenn and some of the other guys were gonna join.”
“I’m gonna pour myself a glass,” Rosita said, walking into the kitchen, “rest of you want one?” Michonne and Maggie giggled and nodded. “Vector?” I fidgeted a little in my seat.
“I don’t know. I don’t think Alexandria’s only medical professional should be drinking. Plus, I’m a bit of a lightweight.”
“Oh come on, this is what we’re here for,” Maggie exclaimed, “to drink a little too much and act like everything hasn’t gone to shit.”
“You’re here now. It’s safe. You can relax a little bit,” Michonne assured.
“Ok, but just one,” I replied, “If I drink too much, I’ll start saying things I don’t wanna.” The three exchanged glances and smirked.
“We’re gettin’ her drunk, right?” Michonne said to them, smiling.
“Oh yeah,” Rosita laughed, followed by Maggie’s “absolutely.” I rolled my eyes and accepted the glass Rosita held out to me. I wasn’t much of a red wine drinker, but with how much of a lightweight I was, wine was the safest option.
The evening turned into a gossip session. They asked me a lot of questions about my life before this, and I theirs, and what got me interested in being a doctor. I got to hear way too many details about the sex lives of Maggie & Glenn and Rick & Michonne. Maggie made a comment about something Glenn liked, and I nearly spat my drink out.
“I’m going to try to forget about that,” I laughed.
Minutes turned into hours, and I was eventually two glasses deep, despite my initial protest of only one. Michonne attempted to hand me a third. I was already tipsy, but like Michonne said, I could relax a little bit. I would start being a serious community member tomorrow.
“What about you, Vector? How are you getting on with everyone?”
“Everyone here’s been wonderful. Y’all are so kind. I can tell that people here really care about each other. Thanks again for letting me stay,” I said, holding my glass up as if I was giving a toast.
“Anyone here particularly wonderful?” Maggie asked, chuckling. I bit my bottom lip. I knew what she was asking, but I hoped feigning ignorance would change the subject.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there anyone you’re interested in…romantically or otherwise?” I couldn’t say I didn’t try.
“Well, seeing how many of the men here are taken, the options are limited.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” She eyed me as I took another sip of my wine. "If we guess it right, will you tell us?” I swirled the drink in my hand, my heart rate picking up as my anxiety spiked.
“Again, the options are limited, you’d eventually get it right, so I guess yeah, go for it.” They squealed like a group of girls in high school and started naming off the male residents, all of which I either said no or shook my head to.
“Does that just leave Daryl? No…is it Daryl?” Michonne asked. I could feel myself starting to turn red, and their faces began to light up at the realization that they had got it right. I averted my gaze from the group. They were squealing like a bunch of high-school girls. Rosita practically jumped out of her chair.
“You’re blushing so hard right now!” she yelled, pointing at me.
“I have got to figure out how to stop doing that,” I mumbled to myself.
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 Nine
Masterlist
AO3 link
Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please
TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death
Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed
This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf
TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series
Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, reference to nightmares
Word count: 2.8k
Several days had passed since Daryl left. I’m not gonna lie, I missed waking up after falling out of bed and hearing my door open, peering up to see him standing there, making sure I was alright. Before he left, I was insisting to him that he didn’t need to keep doing that, but I hoped he would ignore me and continue when he returned.
When I wasn’t treating someone, I was helping around Alexandria in other ways. I helped with laundry, cooking, playing with Judith and some of the other kids (they had lots of questions about me being a doctor), tending to the garden, and figuring out how to make Aaron a prosthetic foot. I found a pair of scissors and nail clippers in the infirmary, so I finally got to clip my nails and cut a few inches of dead ends off my hair. I also invited Maggie, Glenn, and Rosita over for dinner one night and cooked for them. Every day, I felt more and more a part of the community and like I belonged there. At times, it would become overwhelming, and I would step away from everything to cry. After being on my own for so long, finding somewhere with good people that welcomed me so warmly was heartwarming, but it also made me ache for my parents, my brothers, and my best friend.
Having the house to myself for a week gave me plenty of time to think about Daryl. Think about our first run, think about every interaction we’ve had, think about what Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita had said, and think about what Carol said. That that wasn’t the first time he had talked to her about me. That he “didn’t hate me. Not even close.” I thought about what I was going to say to him when he got back. Thought about what he did with the note I left as I didn’t have it in me to check the trash can and possibly see it there.
It was starting to get dark out, and I had finished my duties for the day, so I went back home to make dinner. I had found a slow cooker in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, buried away, so I elected to make something I often made in college as I could just start up the slow cooker and leave it. I grabbed various ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, washing produce off and dumping everything in the pot with water. I turned the timer on and headed upstairs to take a shower. It was a hair-washing day, so it was good that the food was going to take a few hours as I would have plenty of time.
I stopped in my room and grabbed a pair of pajamas. I had originally just been sleeping in my clothes, but the nights were getting chillier, so I needed something warmer. Rosita helped me find a red plaid flannel pajama set that fit perfectly. I had been bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom when I showered to avoid having to scurry around in a towel in case Daryl came back. I got the water running and undressed, stepping into the warm cascade of water.
Earlier, when I had been hanging out with and entertaining some of the children, they asked me what my favorite movies were when movies existed. I told them about my favorite Disney movie from when I was growing up—Sleeping Beauty. I told them all about the tale of Princess Aurora, the fairy godmothers, Prince Philip, and Maleficent. How Prince Philip slayed the dragon to save the princess. How they fell in love and got married. The music was one of my favorite parts, and as I washed and rinsed my hair, I found myself first humming, then singing the song “Once Upon A Dream” from the movie.
I kept singing as I finished my shower. I didn’t think I was perfect by any means, but at least I could hit the higher notes comfortably. The acoustics in the bathroom were stellar. I dried myself off and got into my comfy pajamas, grabbing my glasses off of the sink and putting them back on. I left the bathroom and gave my hair a quick run-through with the towel as I walked back to my room, continuing my serenade as I went.
I grabbed a couple of hair ties off my dresser and shook my hair out again, brushing through it with my fingers and parting it down the middle. I tightly braided each side so that it would turn out wavy again in the morning. I smiled, thinking about all of the times Preston would call me Wednesday when I did this with my hair. Apparently, long black braided hair immediately equals Wednesday Addams.
I grabbed my towel to take it back to the bathroom, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a familiar, gravely voice from downstairs.
“Smells good.”
It felt like I jumped a foot off the ground with how startled I was. The adrenaline was pumping hard, and I turned to steady myself on the railing by the stairs. I looked up and saw Daryl standing in the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, a whiskey in his hand. He was dirty from head to toe, and his hair was disheveled as hell. Despite all the dirt and grime, he was still as handsome as could be. And even though I was startled to high hell, it was wonderful to hear his voice again.
“Christ dude, you have got to stop doing that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” I said, “but hi, you’re back. When did you get back?” I came down the stairs into the kitchen to check on the food. He shifted from leaning on the counter to the island as I entered, stopping to grab a ladle to stir the contents of the slow cooker.
“Long ‘nough ta hear ya in the shower,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, his other arm folded across his chest. I immediately started blushing, and I felt nauseous at the thought of him judging my vocals. I wanted to die in that moment.
“Fuck. Sorry about that,” I said, gazing down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red I was.
“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout,” he assured, “what’re ya makin’?” I lifted my head and met his eyes for just a second before I took the lid off the slower cooker and stirred it. This might’ve been the most I’d ever heard the man talk.
“Ok, you can’t laugh,” I said, chuckling a little and putting the lid back on, turning to him, “it’s something my best friend and I came up with in med school. It’s, umm…it’s called a dump ’n pray. You basically just take a bunch of stuff that would probably go well together, dump it all into a slower cooker, and pray that it turns out good. Usually it does. It’s got like a 98% success rate in my experience.”
“Smells real good,” Daryl said, and I gave him a small smile in response, “I uh, got ya somethin’ while we was out.” He leaned over and grabbed a bag off of the floor, and my heart rate picked up again. He opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty beige scarf, “thought of ya when I saw it.”
I tried to think about something else to keep myself from turning red. Not just at the fact that Daryl got me something on his trip, but that he thought of me when he was out there. I wondered how often he did that, how often he thought of me exactly. Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?
I unwrapped the scarf carefully in case whatever was inside was fragile. I saw a navy blue fabric with a flower on it peeking out at me, so I grabbed it and let the scarf fall to my feet. The item in my hands was a long navy blue dress with large white flowers and a slit up one leg. It looked like it would fit me perfectly. Despite how dirty Daryl looked, the dress appeared clean, probably thanks to the scarf it was wrapped in. I immediately lit up, smiling big, running my hands on the fabric over and over again. The kind gesture, the fact that he wrapped it in a scarf to keep it clean…my heart swelled, and I felt that warm sensation in my chest again.
“Daryl, I…I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” He simply nodded, and I had to ask the question that was scratching at the insides of my brain. “Did you remember?”
“‘Member what?”
“That my favorite color is blue.”
“Got lucky I guess,” he scoffed. He grabbed his things off the ground, including the scarf at my feet, set his drink on the counter, and slipped past me upstairs. I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to be alone and going to bed to pass out. He was probably exhausted. However, I heard the shower turn on instead.
Once I heard the bathroom door close, I went upstairs to my room and folded the dress neatly, placing it in one of the drawers on the dresser. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and went back downstairs to the couch to do some writing while I waited for the food to finish.
I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over the cover of my notebook, my fingers gracing each sticker that they passed. There was a U.S. Navy one, a variety of flowers, a Johns Hopkins one, and some at gotten at a Ke$ha concert as she was my favorite artist. This notebook was my most recent, and it was one of my most prized possessions. I felt like it painted a picture of what my life had looked like over the course of the end of the world so far.
I got lost in what I was writing, eventually being pulled out only by the sound of the slow cooker beeping at me, telling me it was finished. I set my notebook down to get up, but as the beeping finished, Daryl came down the stairs, motioning for me to stay put. He looked clean as a whistle, small residuals of water still dripping from his hair. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly and a pair of black pants. I bit the interior of my bottom lip to focus on the pain in an attempt to keep myself from blushing or from my eyes lingering for too long.
“Stay sat. Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some,” he said. His gentlemanly attitude surprised me. Just over a week ago, he would hardly look in my direction and was frustrated at the thought of having to share a house with me. But I wasn’t going to say no.
“Oh, umm, okay.” I sat back down on the couch, crossing my legs again. I watched him move through the kitchen, grabbing bowls out of cabinets and spoons out of drawers. I did take just a moment to check out his butt as he moved around. And damn, did it look good in those pants. I quickly averted my eyes as he turned around and came over to me, holding a bowl out. “Thank you.”
He handed me a spoon and took a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, propping his right foot up on his left knee and letting his body melt back into the chair. I had hoped that maybe he would come and sit down next to me, but I didn’t blame him for wanting his own space to stretch out. And he seemed to have a rather large personal bubble.
I stirred my concoction with the spoon. This one resembled a chili of sorts, not authentic considering the variety of vegetables. But Daryl was right—it did smell good. I scooped some up with my spoon and blew on it before taking a bite. I was impressed with how tasty it came out.
“Told you. 98% success rate,” I said. I set my bowl down on the coffee table for a moment while I adjusted my body, turning so I could stretch my legs out on the couch and grabbing it again. “How was the hunting trip?” He seemed to be more receptive to conversation tonight, so I was going to take advantage of that.
“Went good. Caught a big sum’ bitch. Probly still guttin’ 'em up outside,” Daryl explained, “sorry. We’re eatin’. Might make ya squeamish.” I laughed mid-bite and almost spit my food out.
“I’m a surgeon, Daryl. Nothing makes me squeamish. But I appreciate the consideration.”
“How’d ya sleep while I was away?” he asked. I thought it was nice that he was asking, wanting to know that I was still ok even when he wasn’t coming to check on me. Nice, but it also confused me. He didn’t seem to be the type to…I don’t know, ask questions like that? He was so cold and calloused towards everyone, me included. But right now, Daryl was warm, and dare I say, sweet.
“Alright I guess. The nightmares are getting more…vivid.” I immediately felt ashamed and stopped myself before I said too much “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I stared into my bowl, stirring my food again, regretting what I had said.
“Keep goin’ if ya wanna,” he encouraged. I blinked a few times in surprise and looked up at him. He was looking at me, those beautiful blue eyes of his piercing through the few strands of hair that fell on his face. His bowl was in his lap, and it looked like he hadn’t touched it yet. I felt bad that he was waiting for me to finish talking because he was probably ravenous after his trip. But apparently, listening to lil’ ol’ me talk was more important than satiating his hunger.
“Umm…well they started off as just a blur of colors and physical sensations. And each night, something else becomes a little more clear. Now there’s sounds, but the visuals are still pretty fuzzy. I, umm…” my voice trailed off, and I felt small, a little scared even as I thought about how my nightmares were becoming more and more vivid. I knew what the nightmare was. I knew what it was going to look like when everything was clear, and that terrified me. I blinked a few times and shook my head a little to bring myself back to reality, and I realized I had started absentmindedly doing my little habit of scratching at my thumb with my index finger. “Sorry. Could…could we maybe talk about something else?” Rather than replying with a yes or no, he changed the topic.
“Ya likin’ it here so far?” Trying to shake the thought of my nightmares from my mind, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, faking a yawn to make it look like I was just sleepy. I blinked back the last little bit of tears and wiped the sides of my hands on my legs.
“Yeah, a lot,” I said, putting my glasses back on, “everyone’s so nice. I had Maggie, Rosita, and Glenn over for dinner the other night. They seem like really good people. I like them a lot. It feels good to be around other people and wake up in the same place every day.” I looked up at him, his bowl still in his lap. “You, uh, you can eat. You don’t have to just listen to me yap on.”
“They’re good people. Some of the best,” Daryl said, ignoring my statement about him eating, “ya really on ya own ‘fore ya got here?” His gravely voice and cute little Southern way of speaking was a match made in heaven for my ears.
“I was. Gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.” I set my bowl down on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom and grab my blanket. As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Daryl finally start eating. And judging by the sounds, he certainly was ravenous. I grabbed my blanket off my bed after I went to the bathroom and came back down. I was gone for no more than five minutes, and he had set his bowl on the coffee table as well, empty this time. I sat back on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, chuckling lightly in amusement. I met his gaze again to continue my story.
“Food was good,” he said, “ya should make it again.”
“If you insist.”
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nine
Masterlist
AO3 link
Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please
TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death
Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed
This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf
TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series
Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, reference to nightmares
Word count: 2.8k
Several days had passed since Daryl left. I’m not gonna lie, I missed waking up after falling out of bed and hearing my door open, peering up to see him standing there, making sure I was alright. Before he left, I was insisting to him that he didn’t need to keep doing that, but I hoped he would ignore me and continue when he returned.
When I wasn’t treating someone, I was helping around Alexandria in other ways. I helped with laundry, cooking, playing with Judith and some of the other kids (they had lots of questions about me being a doctor), tending to the garden, and figuring out how to make Aaron a prosthetic foot. I found a pair of scissors and nail clippers in the infirmary, so I finally got to clip my nails and cut a few inches of dead ends off my hair. I also invited Maggie, Glenn, and Rosita over for dinner one night and cooked for them. Every day, I felt more and more a part of the community and like I belonged there. At times, it would become overwhelming, and I would step away from everything to cry. After being on my own for so long, finding somewhere with good people that welcomed me so warmly was heartwarming, but it also made me ache for my parents, my brothers, and my best friend.
Having the house to myself for a week gave me plenty of time to think about Daryl. Think about our first run, think about every interaction we’ve had, think about what Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita had said, and think about what Carol said. That that wasn’t the first time he had talked to her about me. That he “didn’t hate me. Not even close.” I thought about what I was going to say to him when he got back. Thought about what he did with the note I left as I didn’t have it in me to check the trash can and possibly see it there.
It was starting to get dark out, and I had finished my duties for the day, so I went back home to make dinner. I had found a slow cooker in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, buried away, so I elected to make something I often made in college as I could just start up the slow cooker and leave it. I grabbed various ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, washing produce off and dumping everything in the pot with water. I turned the timer on and headed upstairs to take a shower. It was a hair-washing day, so it was good that the food was going to take a few hours as I would have plenty of time.
I stopped in my room and grabbed a pair of pajamas. I had originally just been sleeping in my clothes, but the nights were getting chillier, so I needed something warmer. Rosita helped me find a red plaid flannel pajama set that fit perfectly. I had been bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom when I showered to avoid having to scurry around in a towel in case Daryl came back. I got the water running and undressed, stepping into the warm cascade of water.
Earlier, when I had been hanging out with and entertaining some of the children, they asked me what my favorite movies were when movies existed. I told them about my favorite Disney movie from when I was growing up—Sleeping Beauty. I told them all about the tale of Princess Aurora, the fairy godmothers, Prince Philip, and Maleficent. How Prince Philip slayed the dragon to save the princess. How they fell in love and got married. The music was one of my favorite parts, and as I washed and rinsed my hair, I found myself first humming, then singing the song “Once Upon A Dream” from the movie.
I kept singing as I finished my shower. I didn’t think I was perfect by any means, but at least I could hit the higher notes comfortably. The acoustics in the bathroom were stellar. I dried myself off and got into my comfy pajamas, grabbing my glasses off of the sink and putting them back on. I left the bathroom and gave my hair a quick run-through with the towel as I walked back to my room, continuing my serenade as I went.
I grabbed a couple of hair ties off my dresser and shook my hair out again, brushing through it with my fingers and parting it down the middle. I tightly braided each side so that it would turn out wavy again in the morning. I smiled, thinking about all of the times Preston would call me Wednesday when I did this with my hair. Apparently, long black braided hair immediately equals Wednesday Addams.
I grabbed my towel to take it back to the bathroom, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a familiar, gravely voice from downstairs.
“Smells good.”
It felt like I jumped a foot off the ground with how startled I was. The adrenaline was pumping hard, and I turned to steady myself on the railing by the stairs. I looked up and saw Daryl standing in the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, a whiskey in his hand. He was dirty from head to toe, and his hair was disheveled as hell. Despite all the dirt and grime, he was still as handsome as could be. And even though I was startled to high hell, it was wonderful to hear his voice again.
“Christ dude, you have got to stop doing that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” I said, “but hi, you’re back. When did you get back?” I came down the stairs into the kitchen to check on the food. He shifted from leaning on the counter to the island as I entered, stopping to grab a ladle to stir the contents of the slow cooker.
“Long ‘nough ta hear ya in the shower,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, his other arm folded across his chest. I immediately started blushing, and I felt nauseous at the thought of him judging my vocals. I wanted to die in that moment.
“Fuck. Sorry about that,” I said, gazing down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red I was.
“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout,” he assured, “what’re ya makin’?” I lifted my head and met his eyes for just a second before I took the lid off the slower cooker and stirred it. This might’ve been the most I’d ever heard the man talk.
“Ok, you can’t laugh,” I said, chuckling a little and putting the lid back on, turning to him, “it’s something my best friend and I came up with in med school. It’s, umm…it’s called a dump ’n pray. You basically just take a bunch of stuff that would probably go well together, dump it all into a slower cooker, and pray that it turns out good. Usually it does. It’s got like a 98% success rate in my experience.”
“Smells real good,” Daryl said, and I gave him a small smile in response, “I uh, got ya somethin’ while we was out.” He leaned over and grabbed a bag off of the floor, and my heart rate picked up again. He opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty beige scarf, “thought of ya when I saw it.”
I tried to think about something else to keep myself from turning red. Not just at the fact that Daryl got me something on his trip, but that he thought of me when he was out there. I wondered how often he did that, how often he thought of me exactly. Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?
I unwrapped the scarf carefully in case whatever was inside was fragile. I saw a navy blue fabric with a flower on it peeking out at me, so I grabbed it and let the scarf fall to my feet. The item in my hands was a long navy blue dress with large white flowers and a slit up one leg. It looked like it would fit me perfectly. Despite how dirty Daryl looked, the dress appeared clean, probably thanks to the scarf it was wrapped in. I immediately lit up, smiling big, running my hands on the fabric over and over again. The kind gesture, the fact that he wrapped it in a scarf to keep it clean…my heart swelled, and I felt that warm sensation in my chest again.
“Daryl, I…I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” He simply nodded, and I had to ask the question that was scratching at the insides of my brain. “Did you remember?”
“‘Member what?”
“That my favorite color is blue.”
“Got lucky I guess,” he scoffed. He grabbed his things off the ground, including the scarf at my feet, set his drink on the counter, and slipped past me upstairs. I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to be alone and going to bed to pass out. He was probably exhausted. However, I heard the shower turn on instead.
Once I heard the bathroom door close, I went upstairs to my room and folded the dress neatly, placing it in one of the drawers on the dresser. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and went back downstairs to the couch to do some writing while I waited for the food to finish.
I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over the cover of my notebook, my fingers gracing each sticker that they passed. There was a U.S. Navy one, a variety of flowers, a Johns Hopkins one, and some at gotten at a Ke$ha concert as she was my favorite artist. This notebook was my most recent, and it was one of my most prized possessions. I felt like it painted a picture of what my life had looked like over the course of the end of the world so far.
I got lost in what I was writing, eventually being pulled out only by the sound of the slow cooker beeping at me, telling me it was finished. I set my notebook down to get up, but as the beeping finished, Daryl came down the stairs, motioning for me to stay put. He looked clean as a whistle, small residuals of water still dripping from his hair. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly and a pair of black pants. I bit the interior of my bottom lip to focus on the pain in an attempt to keep myself from blushing or from my eyes lingering for too long.
“Stay sat. Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some,” he said. His gentlemanly attitude surprised me. Just over a week ago, he would hardly look in my direction and was frustrated at the thought of having to share a house with me. But I wasn’t going to say no.
“Oh, umm, okay.” I sat back down on the couch, crossing my legs again. I watched him move through the kitchen, grabbing bowls out of cabinets and spoons out of drawers. I did take just a moment to check out his butt as he moved around. And damn, did it look good in those pants. I quickly averted my eyes as he turned around and came over to me, holding a bowl out. “Thank you.”
He handed me a spoon and took a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, propping his right foot up on his left knee and letting his body melt back into the chair. I had hoped that maybe he would come and sit down next to me, but I didn’t blame him for wanting his own space to stretch out. And he seemed to have a rather large personal bubble.
I stirred my concoction with the spoon. This one resembled a chili of sorts, not authentic considering the variety of vegetables. But Daryl was right—it did smell good. I scooped some up with my spoon and blew on it before taking a bite. I was impressed with how tasty it came out.
“Told you. 98% success rate,” I said. I set my bowl down on the coffee table for a moment while I adjusted my body, turning so I could stretch my legs out on the couch and grabbing it again. “How was the hunting trip?” He seemed to be more receptive to conversation tonight, so I was going to take advantage of that.
“Went good. Caught a big sum’ bitch. Probly still guttin’ 'em up outside,” Daryl explained, “sorry. We’re eatin’. Might make ya squeamish.” I laughed mid-bite and almost spit my food out.
“I’m a surgeon, Daryl. Nothing makes me squeamish. But I appreciate the consideration.”
“How’d ya sleep while I was away?” he asked. I thought it was nice that he was asking, wanting to know that I was still ok even when he wasn’t coming to check on me. Nice, but it also confused me. He didn’t seem to be the type to…I don’t know, ask questions like that? He was so cold and calloused towards everyone, me included. But right now, Daryl was warm, and dare I say, sweet.
“Alright I guess. The nightmares are getting more…vivid.” I immediately felt ashamed and stopped myself before I said too much “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I stared into my bowl, stirring my food again, regretting what I had said.
“Keep goin’ if ya wanna,” he encouraged. I blinked a few times in surprise and looked up at him. He was looking at me, those beautiful blue eyes of his piercing through the few strands of hair that fell on his face. His bowl was in his lap, and it looked like he hadn’t touched it yet. I felt bad that he was waiting for me to finish talking because he was probably ravenous after his trip. But apparently, listening to lil’ ol’ me talk was more important than satiating his hunger.
“Umm…well they started off as just a blur of colors and physical sensations. And each night, something else becomes a little more clear. Now there’s sounds, but the visuals are still pretty fuzzy. I, umm…” my voice trailed off, and I felt small, a little scared even as I thought about how my nightmares were becoming more and more vivid. I knew what the nightmare was. I knew what it was going to look like when everything was clear, and that terrified me. I blinked a few times and shook my head a little to bring myself back to reality, and I realized I had started absentmindedly doing my little habit of scratching at my thumb with my index finger. “Sorry. Could…could we maybe talk about something else?” Rather than replying with a yes or no, he changed the topic.
“Ya likin’ it here so far?” Trying to shake the thought of my nightmares from my mind, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, faking a yawn to make it look like I was just sleepy. I blinked back the last little bit of tears and wiped the sides of my hands on my legs.
“Yeah, a lot,” I said, putting my glasses back on, “everyone’s so nice. I had Maggie, Rosita, and Glenn over for dinner the other night. They seem like really good people. I like them a lot. It feels good to be around other people and wake up in the same place every day.” I looked up at him, his bowl still in his lap. “You, uh, you can eat. You don’t have to just listen to me yap on.”
“They’re good people. Some of the best,” Daryl said, ignoring my statement about him eating, “ya really on ya own ‘fore ya got here?” His gravely voice and cute little Southern way of speaking was a match made in heaven for my ears.
“I was. Gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.” I set my bowl down on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom and grab my blanket. As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Daryl finally start eating. And judging by the sounds, he certainly was ravenous. I grabbed my blanket off my bed after I went to the bathroom and came back down. I was gone for no more than five minutes, and he had set his bowl on the coffee table as well, empty this time. I sat back on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, chuckling lightly in amusement. I met his gaze again to continue my story.
“Food was good,” he said, “ya should make it again.”
“If you insist.”
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)
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 Thirteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please
TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death
Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed
This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf
TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series
Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing (there's swearing in every chapter ok), allusion to child abuse (Daryl's history), gagging, mentions of trying not to vomit, a gross story about food coming out someone's nose, mention of scars, mention of blood, mention of needles
Word count: 2.7k
"Ooh, I got one. Do you have an embarrassing story to share? If you share one, I’ll tell you one of mine. Make it fair,” I said.
We’d been driving for a little bit, just shooting the shit on our way to find Aaron a foot. It was nice to sit back and talk with Daryl while we cruised down the empty road. Made things seem a little bit normal, like this was just a cross-country road trip with a friend and not going to find a prosthetic for someone whose foot I had to cut off with an axe after a walker bite. He was easy to talk to, a bit awkward with some of the things he said, but it was an enjoyable experience regardless. The little bits of awkwardness were cute and made me think that maybe he was getting a little nervous, which I thought was adorable. It was going well so far, and I felt like I was actually starting to get to know Daryl, even if it was just a tiny bit.
“Nah, don’t got one,” he said. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my body slightly in his direction, sighing a little.
“Come on, please? I’m sure you do,” I asked, making a pouty face to tease him, “we all do. If it helps, I have some that are pretty bad.” He looked over at my pathetic attempt of a pouty face, and his features relaxed a little, like he couldn’t say no and was accepting defeat.
“Fine,” Daryl said, “when I was a kid, got lost in the woods and accidentally used poison oak after...yeah. Ass itched somethin’ awful.” I stifled my laugh a bit, though it was mostly the phrase “ass itched somethin’ awful” that made me giggle.
“Oof, that’s brutal. How long were you lost for?” I asked, expecting him to say hours at most, or that he was out camping or something when it happened.
“Nine days. Dad didn’t even know I was gone.”
I could feel my heart breaking for little Daryl. To be lost for that long, especially as a child…how alone and scared he must’ve felt…how he wouldn’t have known what to do to survive and be trying to figure it out as he went, all while trying to get home...and to not even have anyone out looking for you…I knew he would never say it, but it had to be traumatizing. I felt terrible for insisting he share. I’d never felt like such a piece of shit before.
“Why ya look so sad?” Daryl said, looking over at me and seeing the somber expression on my face. There was a tear trying to escape my right eye, but I quickly blinked it back.
I softened the tone of my voice. “You were a child, Daryl. That’s awful. No kid should have to endure that. I’m so sorry.” I wanted to throw myself over the center console and wrap him in my arms and give him a giant hug, but I restrained myself. “I feel like such a piece of shit for pushing you to share, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“’S’alright. Ya didn’t know,” he replied. Something in him looked different, but I couldn’t explain what it was. He seemed more relaxed overall. Maybe no one had shown him that kind of empathy before. Maybe he’d wanted to get that off his chest & he felt relieved. Maybe he was nervous about how I’d react. There was no way for me to tell. That handsome, stoic face of his made it so hard to tell how he was feeling. However, that stoic expression was quickly replaced with a devious little smirk. “Ya can make it up to me by tellin’ a couple stories of your own.”
I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. “Like more than one? You drive a hard bargain. I gotta think about this.”
“How many ya got?”
“There’s three that come to mind, but you’re only getting two.”
“Why not all of ‘em? Feels fair,” he teased.
"No, if I tell you the worst story, I'll have to throw myself out of this car,” I explained, “it’s bad.”
“If ya tell the worst one, ya only gotta tell one.” I huffed and twirled a chunk of my ponytail around my finger.
“Fine. But I’m warning you, it’s gross.” I took a deep breath and tried not to immediately start gagging at the thought of the story I was about to tell. “So when I was probably 21 or 22, I went on a first date with this guy I met in one of my classes. We met up at this random off-campus restaurant, and I made the terrible mistake of getting spaghetti. Well at one point, he’s telling a story, and I have food in my mouth.” I stopped and covered my mouth as I gagged. “So he’s telling his story, and I sneeze…and I wish I was making this up, but one of the pieces of spaghetti came up through and out my nose…I was trying not to throw up the whole time I was pulling it out. He immediately got up and left. Like didn’t say a single word, just left. I haven’t been able to look at spaghetti since. Even the sight of a box of spaghetti makes me wanna vomit.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but I could tell he was fighting back laughter. All that came out was a small, adorable chuckle. “That’s so much worse than I thought it’d be.”
“Worse? Alright, time to throw myself out of the car,” I said, pretending like I was going to unbuckle my seatbelt. “I never share that story. If we weren’t friends before, we definitely are now. And I think it goes without saying that you’re sworn to secrecy with that story. Are we even now?”
“Yeah. We’re even now,” he replied.
We continued chatting for the short remainder of the ride to this medical center, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible I felt for what felt like forcing Daryl to share such a sad story. I was worried it would have an impact on our interactions when we got back to Alexandria, worried that maybe he hated me now or would never speak to me again once we got back inside the walls. But I felt worse about bringing up what was likely painful memories for him. He seemed alright, and he said we were even, but I wondered if there was another way I could make it up to him.
We turned down one more road, and there was a decently-sized brick building just down the street from the corner. As Daryl pulled into the lot, I read the promising large letters across the top of the building—orthopedic surgery. It wasn’t orthotics and prosthetics, but it was about as close as we were gonna get.
“Ortho surg,” I said as Daryl put the car in park, “nice.”
“That good?” he asked. I grabbed my backpack and put it in my lap, shoving my water bottle back inside.
“It’s potentially promising. If push comes to shove, maybe there’ll be a walker we can steal one off of.” He unbuckled and started to get out of the car, but I reached my hand out and lightly grazed his forearm with the tips of my fingers. “Daryl…are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he said as he turned back to me, clearly confused, “why?”
“Just…the story you shared earlier. I know better than to push people like that, and that was very not cool of me. I’m really sorry if it brought up painful memories for you.”
“Like I said, ya don’t gotta apologize. Ya didn’t know. But thanks,” he said, “apology accepted. Plus, I had ya cryin’ in the store earlier talkin’ ‘bout Eli. We’re good.”
“Oh my god, are we bonding?” I gushed playfully.
“Shut up,” he joked, turning and getting out of the car. I took some things out of my backpack and tossed them into the backseat to make room for anything we might find inside. I brought my spear out and unsheathed it as I got out of the car and followed Daryl inside.
Clearing the office out was easy enough. There were several more walkers than there had been at the other places we’d been to, but it was manageable between the two of us. I walked around to what looked like the front desk area to try to find a directory or anything that could indicate if they had prosthetics, and if so, where they might be stored.
“If you see anything that says orthotics or prosthetics, lemme know,” I said, setting my spear down on the front desk. I started flipping through a binder of random papers while Daryl started checking some of the rooms. There were a few that had keypads on them, which likely meant that there was supplies in there with a code for staff to use. Even if we had the codes, there was no power, so we’d have to manually find a way to break the doors down.
“Find a paperclip or somethin’,” Daryl called out to me from down the hall, “we can try to pick the locks.” The binder I was looking through didn’t seem to be useful, so I started searching drawers for office supplies. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. It was starting to get warm, and I was regretting wearing a jacket without a shirt underneath. One of the drawers had a small box of paper clips in it. Score.
“Got it!” I yelled. I grabbed my spear and jumped back over the desk, scuttling down the hall to meet Daryl. I took a larger clip out of the box and handed it to him. Our fingers briefly touched again, and there was that same electric feeling from this morning when our fingers touched as he handed me my coffee. The same electric feeling from when my fingers grazed his forearm in the car before we came inside.
He slung his crossbow across his back and straightened out the paperclip. Getting down on one knee, he started trying to pick the lock, and I went back to try to find something that would tell us what was in these closets. I could hear him fiddling around with the lock, and eventually, a click echoed through the silence of the office.
“Got it,” he said, and I could hear him cautiously pushing the door open.
“Lockpicking just increased to 30,” I whispered to myself as I went down the hall to meet him.
This particular storage closet had mostly been cleared out. It looked like it was used to store gowns, paper for the beds, gloves, masks, braces, and probably some first aid stuff. There was a box of gloves and some braces, so I went over and put those into my backpack.
“Damn it,” I huffed, “alright, let’s try another one. I’ll keep trying to find a map of this place or something.”
I rummaged around the front desk more before finding a paper map that had been thrown in a trash can. I pulled it out and held it up so it matched the direction I was facing. It looked like a poorly scanned paper copy of another poorly scanned paper copy, so the text that was legible enough was tiny and barely legible. I could make out “pros” on one of the square spaces.
“Daryl, I think I found it.” I was already walking back towards him when I yelled out, looking down at the map at the tiny print as I walked, and I bumped right into him. He was standing in front of another closet door, which he had already picked open.
“So did I,” he said, stepping into the room.
Looking around, there were shelves of different types of prosthetics, including feet, hands, partial arms, full arms, etc. I figured they were likely used for fittings so a prescription could be submitted for the right size and type, but there were options, which is what we needed.
"Geez. Someone with a foot fetish would have a hay day in here,” I joked, “try to find different sizes. One of them is bound to fit. Oh, Aaron’s gonna be so excited when I show him.” My face was lit up. I felt like I was getting to do something similar to my type of specialty again. I got down on the ground and grabbed a couple of prosthetic feet, placing them into my bag. There was just enough room for both of them. I grabbed a third and held it in my hands, flipping it around and daydreaming about my days in the ER.
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked me, squatting down next to me. He had grabbed a few prosthetics and put them in his bag as well, carrying a couple more under his arm.
“I just miss my job is all,” I said, continuing to flip the fake foot around in my hand as I talked, “I sat with people on what was usually the scariest day of their entire life. Sat with them while they died. Yeah, it was intense. But I think it’s what I was meant to do. It was fulfilling. It gave me purpose.” A single tear escaped my eye, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get all cheesy and shit.”
“Your patients were lucky to have ya,” he said. I could see in my peripheral vision that he was staring at my scars as I fiddled around with the prosthetic. I pulled my sleeves back down to cover the thick bands of scar tissue.
“That means a lot. Thank you.” I wiped another tear away with the back of my hand, laughing a little. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again.”
“C’mon. Might as well clear the place out. Still got upstairs to do,” Daryl said, lifting himself back to his feet.
We made several trips in and out, carrying out all of the prosthetics we could. It would be good to have these in the infirmary in case I had to perform another amputation. After that, we went upstairs. The second floor contained a blood draw station and an X-ray lab.
“Blood draw might have some stuff,” I said, going behind their front desk, “don’t reach into any sharps containers though.”
There were some more boxes of gloves and masks, rubber bands for putting on people’s arms to take samples, needles, and alcohol pads. I found an empty sharps container to put the needles in and carried out what I could in my arms.
“Good luck charm strikes again,” Daryl joked. He grabbed some of the boxes of gloves and followed me back downstairs.
After we loaded the car and got back in, I laid back in my seat and stared up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted from all the hard work we’d put in. I was sweating buckets, and I felt disgusting.
“We crushed it,” I said, holding my hand up for a high-five, which Daryl returned, “teamwork makes the dream work.” I turned my head towards him. “Thanks for bringing me here so I could get a prosthetic for Aaron. He won’t need it for a while, but I’m gonna have to stop myself from telling him in the meantime. I wanna make it a surprise.”
“Welcome,” he said as he backed us out of the lot and onto the road back to Alexandria, “what else ya gotta do today?”
“Uh, well I’m starving, so I guess start with that. Rosita said she wanted to see me, and I need to reorganize the infirmary now that we have all of this to sort through. What about you?”
“Don’t got watch ’til later. Do what you gotta do, I can make us food.” I smiled and turned my head back up towards the ceiling.
“Thanks Daryl.”
He was such a sweetie. And I was falling very hard, very fast, with no idea where I was going to land.
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Thirteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please
TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death
Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed
This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf
TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series
Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing (there's swearing in every chapter ok), allusion to child abuse (Daryl's history), gagging, mentions of trying not to vomit, a gross story about food coming out someone's nose, mention of scars, mention of blood, mention of needles
Word count: 2.7k
"Ooh, I got one. Do you have an embarrassing story to share? If you share one, I’ll tell you one of mine. Make it fair,” I said.
We’d been driving for a little bit, just shooting the shit on our way to find Aaron a foot. It was nice to sit back and talk with Daryl while we cruised down the empty road. Made things seem a little bit normal, like this was just a cross-country road trip with a friend and not going to find a prosthetic for someone whose foot I had to cut off with an axe after a walker bite. He was easy to talk to, a bit awkward with some of the things he said, but it was an enjoyable experience regardless. The little bits of awkwardness were cute and made me think that maybe he was getting a little nervous, which I thought was adorable. It was going well so far, and I felt like I was actually starting to get to know Daryl, even if it was just a tiny bit.
“Nah, don’t got one,” he said. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my body slightly in his direction, sighing a little.
“Come on, please? I’m sure you do,” I asked, making a pouty face to tease him, “we all do. If it helps, I have some that are pretty bad.” He looked over at my pathetic attempt of a pouty face, and his features relaxed a little, like he couldn’t say no and was accepting defeat.
“Fine,” Daryl said, “when I was a kid, got lost in the woods and accidentally used poison oak after...yeah. Ass itched somethin’ awful.” I stifled my laugh a bit, though it was mostly the phrase “ass itched somethin’ awful” that made me giggle.
“Oof, that’s brutal. How long were you lost for?” I asked, expecting him to say hours at most, or that he was out camping or something when it happened.
“Nine days. Dad didn’t even know I was gone.”
I could feel my heart breaking for little Daryl. To be lost for that long, especially as a child…how alone and scared he must’ve felt…how he wouldn’t have known what to do to survive and be trying to figure it out as he went, all while trying to get home...and to not even have anyone out looking for you…I knew he would never say it, but it had to be traumatizing. I felt terrible for insisting he share. I’d never felt like such a piece of shit before.
“Why ya look so sad?” Daryl said, looking over at me and seeing the somber expression on my face. There was a tear trying to escape my right eye, but I quickly blinked it back.
I softened the tone of my voice. “You were a child, Daryl. That’s awful. No kid should have to endure that. I’m so sorry.” I wanted to throw myself over the center console and wrap him in my arms and give him a giant hug, but I restrained myself. “I feel like such a piece of shit for pushing you to share, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“’S’alright. Ya didn’t know,” he replied. Something in him looked different, but I couldn’t explain what it was. He seemed more relaxed overall. Maybe no one had shown him that kind of empathy before. Maybe he’d wanted to get that off his chest & he felt relieved. Maybe he was nervous about how I’d react. There was no way for me to tell. That handsome, stoic face of his made it so hard to tell how he was feeling. However, that stoic expression was quickly replaced with a devious little smirk. “Ya can make it up to me by tellin’ a couple stories of your own.”
I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. “Like more than one? You drive a hard bargain. I gotta think about this.”
“How many ya got?”
“There’s three that come to mind, but you’re only getting two.”
“Why not all of ‘em? Feels fair,” he teased.
"No, if I tell you the worst story, I'll have to throw myself out of this car,” I explained, “it’s bad.”
“If ya tell the worst one, ya only gotta tell one.” I huffed and twirled a chunk of my ponytail around my finger.
“Fine. But I’m warning you, it’s gross.” I took a deep breath and tried not to immediately start gagging at the thought of the story I was about to tell. “So when I was probably 21 or 22, I went on a first date with this guy I met in one of my classes. We met up at this random off-campus restaurant, and I made the terrible mistake of getting spaghetti. Well at one point, he’s telling a story, and I have food in my mouth.” I stopped and covered my mouth as I gagged. “So he’s telling his story, and I sneeze…and I wish I was making this up, but one of the pieces of spaghetti came up through and out my nose…I was trying not to throw up the whole time I was pulling it out. He immediately got up and left. Like didn’t say a single word, just left. I haven’t been able to look at spaghetti since. Even the sight of a box of spaghetti makes me wanna vomit.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but I could tell he was fighting back laughter. All that came out was a small, adorable chuckle. “That’s so much worse than I thought it’d be.”
“Worse? Alright, time to throw myself out of the car,” I said, pretending like I was going to unbuckle my seatbelt. “I never share that story. If we weren’t friends before, we definitely are now. And I think it goes without saying that you’re sworn to secrecy with that story. Are we even now?”
“Yeah. We’re even now,” he replied.
We continued chatting for the short remainder of the ride to this medical center, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible I felt for what felt like forcing Daryl to share such a sad story. I was worried it would have an impact on our interactions when we got back to Alexandria, worried that maybe he hated me now or would never speak to me again once we got back inside the walls. But I felt worse about bringing up what was likely painful memories for him. He seemed alright, and he said we were even, but I wondered if there was another way I could make it up to him.
We turned down one more road, and there was a decently-sized brick building just down the street from the corner. As Daryl pulled into the lot, I read the promising large letters across the top of the building—orthopedic surgery. It wasn’t orthotics and prosthetics, but it was about as close as we were gonna get.
“Ortho surg,” I said as Daryl put the car in park, “nice.”
“That good?” he asked. I grabbed my backpack and put it in my lap, shoving my water bottle back inside.
“It’s potentially promising. If push comes to shove, maybe there’ll be a walker we can steal one off of.” He unbuckled and started to get out of the car, but I reached my hand out and lightly grazed his forearm with the tips of my fingers. “Daryl…are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he said as he turned back to me, clearly confused, “why?”
“Just…the story you shared earlier. I know better than to push people like that, and that was very not cool of me. I’m really sorry if it brought up painful memories for you.”
“Like I said, ya don’t gotta apologize. Ya didn’t know. But thanks,” he said, “apology accepted. Plus, I had ya cryin’ in the store earlier talkin’ ‘bout Eli. We’re good.”
“Oh my god, are we bonding?” I gushed playfully.
“Shut up,” he joked, turning and getting out of the car. I took some things out of my backpack and tossed them into the backseat to make room for anything we might find inside. I brought my spear out and unsheathed it as I got out of the car and followed Daryl inside.
Clearing the office out was easy enough. There were several more walkers than there had been at the other places we’d been to, but it was manageable between the two of us. I walked around to what looked like the front desk area to try to find a directory or anything that could indicate if they had prosthetics, and if so, where they might be stored.
“If you see anything that says orthotics or prosthetics, lemme know,” I said, setting my spear down on the front desk. I started flipping through a binder of random papers while Daryl started checking some of the rooms. There were a few that had keypads on them, which likely meant that there was supplies in there with a code for staff to use. Even if we had the codes, there was no power, so we’d have to manually find a way to break the doors down.
“Find a paperclip or somethin’,” Daryl called out to me from down the hall, “we can try to pick the locks.” The binder I was looking through didn’t seem to be useful, so I started searching drawers for office supplies. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. It was starting to get warm, and I was regretting wearing a jacket without a shirt underneath. One of the drawers had a small box of paper clips in it. Score.
“Got it!” I yelled. I grabbed my spear and jumped back over the desk, scuttling down the hall to meet Daryl. I took a larger clip out of the box and handed it to him. Our fingers briefly touched again, and there was that same electric feeling from this morning when our fingers touched as he handed me my coffee. The same electric feeling from when my fingers grazed his forearm in the car before we came inside.
He slung his crossbow across his back and straightened out the paperclip. Getting down on one knee, he started trying to pick the lock, and I went back to try to find something that would tell us what was in these closets. I could hear him fiddling around with the lock, and eventually, a click echoed through the silence of the office.
“Got it,” he said, and I could hear him cautiously pushing the door open.
“Lockpicking just increased to 30,” I whispered to myself as I went down the hall to meet him.
This particular storage closet had mostly been cleared out. It looked like it was used to store gowns, paper for the beds, gloves, masks, braces, and probably some first aid stuff. There was a box of gloves and some braces, so I went over and put those into my backpack.
“Damn it,” I huffed, “alright, let’s try another one. I’ll keep trying to find a map of this place or something.”
I rummaged around the front desk more before finding a paper map that had been thrown in a trash can. I pulled it out and held it up so it matched the direction I was facing. It looked like a poorly scanned paper copy of another poorly scanned paper copy, so the text that was legible enough was tiny and barely legible. I could make out “pros” on one of the square spaces.
“Daryl, I think I found it.” I was already walking back towards him when I yelled out, looking down at the map at the tiny print as I walked, and I bumped right into him. He was standing in front of another closet door, which he had already picked open.
“So did I,” he said, stepping into the room.
Looking around, there were shelves of different types of prosthetics, including feet, hands, partial arms, full arms, etc. I figured they were likely used for fittings so a prescription could be submitted for the right size and type, but there were options, which is what we needed.
"Geez. Someone with a foot fetish would have a hay day in here,” I joked, “try to find different sizes. One of them is bound to fit. Oh, Aaron’s gonna be so excited when I show him.” My face was lit up. I felt like I was getting to do something similar to my type of specialty again. I got down on the ground and grabbed a couple of prosthetic feet, placing them into my bag. There was just enough room for both of them. I grabbed a third and held it in my hands, flipping it around and daydreaming about my days in the ER.
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked me, squatting down next to me. He had grabbed a few prosthetics and put them in his bag as well, carrying a couple more under his arm.
“I just miss my job is all,” I said, continuing to flip the fake foot around in my hand as I talked, “I sat with people on what was usually the scariest day of their entire life. Sat with them while they died. Yeah, it was intense. But I think it’s what I was meant to do. It was fulfilling. It gave me purpose.” A single tear escaped my eye, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get all cheesy and shit.”
“Your patients were lucky to have ya,” he said. I could see in my peripheral vision that he was staring at my scars as I fiddled around with the prosthetic. I pulled my sleeves back down to cover the thick bands of scar tissue.
“That means a lot. Thank you.” I wiped another tear away with the back of my hand, laughing a little. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again.”
“C’mon. Might as well clear the place out. Still got upstairs to do,” Daryl said, lifting himself back to his feet.
We made several trips in and out, carrying out all of the prosthetics we could. It would be good to have these in the infirmary in case I had to perform another amputation. After that, we went upstairs. The second floor contained a blood draw station and an X-ray lab.
“Blood draw might have some stuff,” I said, going behind their front desk, “don’t reach into any sharps containers though.”
There were some more boxes of gloves and masks, rubber bands for putting on people’s arms to take samples, needles, and alcohol pads. I found an empty sharps container to put the needles in and carried out what I could in my arms.
“Good luck charm strikes again,” Daryl joked. He grabbed some of the boxes of gloves and followed me back downstairs.
After we loaded the car and got back in, I laid back in my seat and stared up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted from all the hard work we’d put in. I was sweating buckets, and I felt disgusting.
“We crushed it,” I said, holding my hand up for a high-five, which Daryl returned, “teamwork makes the dream work.” I turned my head towards him. “Thanks for bringing me here so I could get a prosthetic for Aaron. He won’t need it for a while, but I’m gonna have to stop myself from telling him in the meantime. I wanna make it a surprise.”
“Welcome,” he said as he backed us out of the lot and onto the road back to Alexandria, “what else ya gotta do today?”
“Uh, well I’m starving, so I guess start with that. Rosita said she wanted to see me, and I need to reorganize the infirmary now that we have all of this to sort through. What about you?”
“Don’t got watch ’til later. Do what you gotta do, I can make us food.” I smiled and turned my head back up towards the ceiling.
“Thanks Daryl.”
He was such a sweetie. And I was falling very hard, very fast, with no idea where I was going to land.
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
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
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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 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 Sixteen
Masterlist
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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