Chapter Text
I pull my weight, I do the work, I help keep the group safe. And I keep to myself. It’s easier and better for me if I do that. I can’t afford to be getting attached to people I’m going to lose or are going to lose me; either I die or they find out what I am and abandon me. You’d be surprised just how hateful people can still continue to be even after the world has ended. We have bigger problems on our hands now than who can use what bathroom, but apparently bigotry is like a cockroach; it can survive anything.
After Rick found me wandering along the highway with my rucksack, trying to find any form of humanity still left out here I became a trial member of the group. Day in, day out doing what was asked of me, fetching water, moving supplies, bringing up the rear in the truck, keeping watch. Whatever they wanted, whatever I needed to do, I would do it as long as I got to stay.
People weren’t my thing, but at this moment people were the only thing I had. With people came food, shelter, whatever warmth they could spare and company. Which everyone needed every once in a while. As kind as Rick was, being the leader he couldn’t afford to check on me every five seconds, but as long as I was in eyeline he seemed to have no problem with me not saying much and I preferred it that way too. Dale, Glenn and T-Dog were the most talkative with me, although Dale talked to me, Glenn sorta talked at me through Dale since I didn’t respond often. I wasn’t ignoring them, I was just nervous, I wanted to tell them how much their compassion really meant to me, but I’d started as the silent type, and I guess that’s just how I had to stay.
Lori asked me to watch Carl whenever she went off and I did, I kept an eye on Sofia for Carol as well. Happy to help, not that kids were my area of expertise, but I could at least be trusted to not let them run off. Carl rambled on as kids do, asked me questions I didn’t often answer. I felt more inclined to talk to the kids knowing they meant no real harm. Hate was taught, not born, and I doubted Rick or Lori or Carol taught Carl or Sophia to hate…I could just never be too sure. I was too determined to protect what little peace I had in this nightmare of a world we lived in that I did the bare minimum to communicate at all times.
Andrea and Shane didn’t have a lot of reason to speak to me. Preoccupied with themselves, I was almost certain something complicated was going on between the two of them and Rick and Lori, but that was none of my business and quite frankly I wasn’t in the mood to settle a lover’s quarrel. I couldn’t handle love at the best of the times when the world was good (well, better) but forget about that in the apocalypse. I’m not going to play the free therapist just because I’m the lowest link in the food chain of the group. I stayed out of their way and they stayed out of mine
And then there was Daryl. A lot like me he didn’t say much, he was more vocal than I was generally speaking, but he was reclusive in the same way I was. He rode the bike which meant he never had to share a vehicle with anyone, he stayed in a swag which only comfortably fit one person, so he didn’t have to share space. But he openly shared resources; no one went without, no one got left behind, that was clear with Daryl. He seemed closest with Carol, I don’t really know what the story was there either, I didn’t have a voice to ask but I assumed that there was something maternal about it, or at the very least familial. Not my job to pry, and despite my heart, not my job to care.
On our way to the next town we had to stop and make camp along the roadside, it wasn’t ideal but if we didn’t stop we’d have no fuel to keep moving on, and there were some cars up the road that probably had a decent amount of fuel in them we could syphon off. But that was tomorrow’s problem, tonight we rest, take inventory. Give the drivers a chance to stretch their legs and the kids a chance to run around. Lori was teaching the kids how to forage for mushrooms as the sun went down, and when the moon was up we warmed up some of the cans of food over a low fire which we smothered to embers as to not attract Walkers or raiders. The food was good enough, especially for canned meat and beans that might have been sitting in the those people’s cupboards for years.
I’d never had Spam, that’s what I get for being Australian taking a trip to the US for the first time right before the apocalypse, but it’s better than starving. I take the food gratefully, offering the kids some of my food when I can see them staring at my plate. Dividing it up between the two of them and letting them enjoy it, they need it more than me if they want to make it through this world, they’re only small and they’ll only get smaller if they aren’t prioritized. I know I’m not the only one thinking that, but I’m more willing to sacrifice that stuff, and it can’t hurt Lori and Rick’s opinion of me to take care of their kid so there’s that too.
I’m sitting with my back against the tire of the truck. Looking into the fire with probably too much intensity but I’m too tired to fix my face. We’ve boxed ourselves in with the RV covering the road, Daryl’s bike and the Hyundai covering the east and the truck covering the west we’re pretty sheltered, and we’ll have watch rotation so the forest is covered too.
Dale is already starting to yawn, and no one objects when he stands to head into the RV, sleeping in the bed that’s been rotated between Carol and Sophia, Dale, Glenn and T-Dog. He’ll be up at first light anyway, so it seems only fair to me. And I’m not going to object; it’s not like I have any right to take the bed anyway. This is about when everyone else is ready for bed and the most rested stay up for first watch. Andrea volunteers and so does Carol, she doesn’t offer very often but I think she feels some obligation to pull her weight, which I can relate to but she does so many of the smaller task, domestic as some might say. Mending torn clothes, cleaning dishes, prepping food, and without her we’d be living in the muck more than we already are. So, I don’t see what she feels the need to do more, but she has a little girl and I can understand the responsibility she must feel.
Lori and Rick share the tent with Carl and Carl doesn’t hesitate to offer half of the mattress to Sophie whilst Carol goes on watch. Just like his dad, I guess.
Shane commandeers the truck. Pulling the door open just shy of my head, not saying a thing as he rocks the truck bed nearly pinching me between the tire and the undercharge of the truck bed. I glare at his boot as it disappears into the truck and the door slams shut behind him. Glenn climbs into the RV, assumably to sit in the table space until Dale wakes only to switch with him immediately to get some shut eye himself, although I’m sure he’ll fall asleep upright anyway. T-Dog takes the Hyundai
“We’ve got space in the tent” Rick says nudging me on the shoulder.
I shake my head and muster a gravelly “I’m fine” my unused voice grinding against my throat when I try to speak.
“I got room” a voice pipes up from over the low embers of the campfire. I look to see Daryl, sitting with his knees up, whittling away at something with his knife which he lets rest in loose hands as he looks between Rick and me. He’s looking at Rick more than me which gives me a chance to stare at him confused without being watched back.
“You sure?” Rick asks, and then turns to me, redirecting the question.
When Daryl looks back to me, I look away as quickly as I can turning my attention to Rick.
“It’s bigger than it looks” Daryl offers when I still haven’t said anything. Rick’s eyes flick back to Daryl out the side of his head and then to me. Not feeling pressured but uncomfortable nonetheless, I agree
“Sure. I won’t hog the space”
“Nah you’re a small package anyway, s’fine” Daryl says pointing his knife at me before standing up
I roll my eyes and sigh, Rick gives me a nod, and I give him a nod back, as he heads back to his tent. I stand up, using the truck bed to help me stand, but almost as soon as I do my head spins and the embers of the fire give way to blackness and swirling shapes and I have to tightly grasp the cold metal behind to before I can stand properly.
I feel a hand on my elbow and when I open my eyes Daryl is beside me
“I’m fine” I say quickly pushing myself up, but not walking until I know I won’t fall over
“The hell was that?”
“Some undiagnosed condition” I say vaguely, not untrue, I have guesses about what it was but never got the official slip of paper to tell me what’s wrong with me. I finally stand up fully and Daryl lets go of me. He doesn’t move far away as he walks past his bike and a little ways off the highway, just a few steps down into the forest. My arm tingles in the place where his calloused hands and chipped nails made contact with my skin.
He’s used some of the old strings and cans we first had to warn him of anything. And in the back of my mind, I worry that with us sharing a space if something goes wrong I’ll just become a hinderance.
He takes his knife and what I can see now are half whittled arrows and stows them in his bike bag and then rushes ahead of me into the half open zipper and grabs something before standing up with clothes in a bunch
“I’m just gonna change” he points over to some dimmer set of trees. For a bloke he’s pretty body shy, but I can’t really blame him, can I?
“Don’t get out of earshot” is all I say, I hear him make a sound but can’t tell what it is.
I take off my boots and sit at the entrance to the swag because I don’t know what else to do. We had these back home, when I used to go on camping trips with my Scout group so I’m familiar, but I’d never spent the night in one and never owned one. Would have been pretty handy right now.
I briefly stick my head inside and it’s slightly bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside…but it’s sure going to be cozy. And it sort of hits me all at once, just how close together I’m going to be with Daryl in here. The more pressing question is why he offered in the first place. Despite his rougher exterior it’s a foreign concept to no one that Daryl is actually one of the more compassionate people in the group. Even more so than Lori and Andrea, but I’m the newest member, I still feel like I’m on a trial period and he wants to share his space with me?
Maybe it’s just for warmth, more than anything. It’s cold as balls out here even on the best of nights, and resources are scarce when it comes to heat since it’s too hot during the day to wear more than one layer. I try not to think too hard about it.
And then I realise something else, sleeping with another person means I’m going to have to keep my binder on, and I’ve already been wearing it all day. Sure, I’ve been driving the truck but that isn’t peaceful either. Not with Shane riding shotgun half the day which is stressful, and I can already feel the pain blooming under my ribs. I can’t sit up and hunch over in the swag, even for me it’s not big enough, which would have been the simplest resolution. I could just lay on my chest the whole time, but I don’t know what he’s going to expect for sleeping arrangements. Maybe if we’re at opposite ends it’ll be fine?
I don’t have to wait any longer because I hear him trudging back, his pants aren’t that much different, just a cleaner, less ripped version of the one he already had. I stand up
“The forest is free if ya need to change”
I snort, not expecting the humour
“So how exactly are we doing this?” I say, ignoring his question
“Yeah, I didn’t think that far” he says scratching his head
“I could sleep at one end, and you could sleep at the other?”
“So, we can smell each other’s feet? Hard pass”
He pushes past me, sitting down and pulling his shoes off, leaving them by the end of the zip and tucking his pants away in a corner.
“C’mon just get in” he says, his voice suddenly gruffer
“Just a sec” I say taking a few steps into the forest, quickly checking for anyone still up. Andrea and Carol are on top of the RV but not looking my way, I still hide behind a tree as I move. I quickly unbutton my flannel and pull my shirt over my head, the cold air nipping at my arms and chest making the hair on my body stand on end as I lose any heat I accumulated by the fire. I pull my binder off as fast as it will allow me to and tug my shirt back on and rebutton my flannel
He’s shuffled over to the far side of the tent, and he’s not wrong – I’m not a very big package so it gives him room to spread out just a little once I’m settled. I lay on my back; my arms folded over my chest, pressing firmly against my breast to keep them as flat and unassuming as I can. He’s sitting up, propped up with his hand holding the side of his face and his head creating a dent in the already lumpy pillow beneath him. There’s only one pillow and I let him take it because of course I do. I settle just shy of it, my own elbow poking the edge but giving him the same space as the length of the pillow across the tent.
He reaches over me quickly to pull the last bit of the tent flap shut, his bicep hovering over my face as I press myself into the ground, closing my eyes because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to fucking do.
It’s not as dark as I expected in here, with the low light from the fire, the light from the moon through the canopy and with my eyes slowly adjusting I can see him perfectly fine in the near darkness.
“Now what?” he says, like there’s a myriad of options before us. The way I see it we only have four: sleep, talk, stare at each other, or he kills me and dumps my body. I don’t know why the fourth option has crossed my mind at all but it’s hard to not think of death even in pleasant company. I’m still the outsider.
“Your tent, your call” I say, deflecting entirely. It’s my superpower really
“Hell nuh, if I’m gonna have to stay this close to ya all night, you’re gonna to at least make it interesting. How’d you get here?”
Simple question, starting off small even if it’s demanding, it’s fair. I’ve been with the group for roughly a month and not a single one of them knows anything about me other than I was unarmed and not from America originally
“Was on a trip here, from Australia”
“I thought your accent was stupid”
“Rude” I say with a smirk
“Just a fact Southside”
“Southside? I’m getting a nickname already?”
“Couldn’t call you Underdog, could I? Don’t roll of the tongue as well, and we already got T-Dog”
“Sure” I say, my voice going quiet without fighting him.
He doesn’t say anything else, not discouraged by my lack of conversational skills and waits for me to continue
“I was trying for an acting gig, I graduated a year back and finally got a Hollywood spot, at least a try for one. And before I could even give it my all, the city went to shit and the Walkers were everywhere. I’d seen enough movies to know I had to get away from big populations. So, I booked it, hitchhiked with anyone getting out, got on any vehicle I could until I was out in the country. Figured it would be better than there…didn’t think I’d have much luck surviving without any gear though.”
“Wrong time to go on the biggest trip of your life, huh?”
I hum in ascent.
“You reckon it got back home?” he asks, any form of sugar coating the shit storm we will be forever trapped in is non-existent, but to be honest it’s refreshing. To accept and face the idea in this way, not confronting it head on like we do when the Walkers are near, but accepting that life simply is the way it is.
“Probably. People aren’t smart, they wouldn’t stay put and make sure the rest of the world was ok, carrying whatever is making the Walkers with them as they went”
“Ya got family back home?”
“Yeah-” I can tell that the way I say that sounds open ended, I don’t elaborate on who I’ve left behind or the state I left them in. I think Daryl knows there’s something more, he doesn’t say anything, “-what about you?”
“My brother, dunno where he is, or if he’s even alive. And my dad, haven’t seen him in years. Doubt he was sober enough to notice before a Walker was bitting off his face”
“You don’t miss him?” I say, prying a little further than I would have normally, but he started it, and he can finish it if he wants to.
“Nope. My brother though…in some ways”
“I don’t miss my dad either. My dad never liked me much”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
Instead of shying away and hiding back in my shell when he asks I feel the strength to at least be lighthearted when I refuse to answer his question, instead I respond with,
“Now that’s a story you’ve gotta earn” I don’t exactly know what I expect him to do. Why my dad hates me isn’t just as simple as ‘I was a bad kid and did some drugs’ or something like that. No…that’s my whole backstory he’s asking for there, and not that he knows it, I’m already being vulnerable enough with him as it is, crawling into a confined space with him without my binder on.
He smirks at me, his eyes crinkling when he does, his face taking on some boyish charm.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah” I say licking my lips, a nervous habit of mine I’m praying he doesn’t misinterpret. Because…being this close to him is making my mind run around in hysterical circles and I would rather that he didn’t have clear view of my thoughts displayed on my face.
“Guess I’ll just have to earn it then”
“I guess you will” I return his smile. Somehow it becomes infectious.
He stops for a minute just to look, his eyes flicking ever so slightly in the near darkness, over my face. I take a moment to do the same, my eyes stopping at his stubble, the hair that is growing around his ears and the curve of his arm as he rests on it
“Tell me this Southside, why’re ya so quiet? I get it, not everyone’s a talker. But why do you look like someone might cut your tongue out if ya speak?”
I fight the need to clear my voice to talk to him, suddenly self-conscious that it’s not deep enough and he’s already beginning to see through me. I think of multiple things to say ‘I’ve never been a talker’ or ‘people don’t like my voice much’ or ‘what? Do you like the way I sound’ all of those things run through my mind as a way to respond, but instead I end up saying,
“I don’t like the sound of my own voice. And I’m fine to let the others just tell me what they need from me” And it hits me like a knee to the gut just how much I’ve spoken to Daryl in the last 20 minutes. How all it took was a kind gesture and a soft smile and he opened me up like I was box without a lock.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with it” A new sensation hits my stomach now, one that makes me insides squirm, but I don’t move, and I don’t speak, I don’t even breathe too loudly just in case.
“I’ll stop bein’ nosey, get some sleep” and without another word, he turns over, tucking his arm under his head. And ending the conversation right then and there. I can’t tell if he’d crossed into territory he’d rather not deal with or if he was doing it for my benefit or if he was just tired, but I felt the whiplash from how quickly things had turned. I tried not to take it personally or let it bother me; we needed our strength and couldn’t afford to squander the precious time we had to sleep under the protection of our fellow man. They needed to sleep eventually too after all… but it makes my chest ache in a way I can’t unravel
I turn over myself; our backs facing one another and make sure my bent knees don’t push my feet against or near him. And try to sleep myself, listening to the slow rhythm of life behind me.
…
I struggle to sleep. My mind races too hard at the best of times, and I’ve always needed sound to sleep and without it getting a full night’s rest is near impossible for me. But with Daryl at my back and my thoughts concentrated entirely on him there’s no hope for me to sleep until I’m exhausted.
I haven’t really held onto many strong opinions about each of the group. Everyone is probably not like they might have been had I met them in a normal everyday circumstance. Hell, I might have not ever met any of them given everyday circumstances but here we are. And yet Daryl is wrapped up in my mind like a vine and coiling around my heart like a snake and I can already feel my emotions slipping into a dangerous place.
The feelings are mixed with logic, fondness combined with the knowledge that either of us could die without a moment notice. Care for someone I know I know nothing about and someone who knows nothing about me. And dare I say attraction because even with his dirty nails and unwashed hair he has a charm that would be much softer without the apocalyptic edge and my brain is latching onto it.
I really need to stop because this can only end fucking badly. But my brain won’t stop and every time I think about something new my heart beats just a little bit faster, and I resist the urge to turn over and stare at his back whilst he sleeps. Because I’m not a fucking creep and that is most certainly creep behaviour. Unfortunately, I can’t stay put and my side begins to ache, so as softly as I can without rustling the tent I do turn over, facing his back. Only to be met with his face, arm tucked underneath his head and his eyes closed. When did he turn over? I didn’t even hear him do it!
And now terrified of waking him, I’m stuck facing him…but I can’t say I’m not enjoying the view. He really is a good-looking man; dare I say beautiful. And I trace each one of his features with my eyes, studying his nose, his jaw, his lips; how his top lip is thinner than his bottom, his stubble and the lashes on his closed eyes. I wish that I could study his eyes as well but that would mean he could see me looking and I really would rather he didn’t catch me staring
I can allow myself one night, I think. Just one night, to be a foolish boy with a foolish heart, and then I can pretend that this didn’t happen and go back to being the side liner that the group knows I am. There is no point getting attached – that’s why my brain says
But that won’t be enough to stop me – is what my heart tells me.
And I fall asleep, facing Daryl, thinking of what life would have been like if earth hadn’t become hell.