Muted // A Daryl Dixon Fanfiction

•Chapter One Hundred & Nine•

M U T E D

Season 8

Bobbie's Point of View

Daryl and I sat on my bike examining it to make sure nothing malfunctions. With Daryl knowing all about bikes and practically building his own when we first got to Alexandria, all thanks to Aaron, he knows what he's doing. Seeing him covered up in bike grease was a little...well, a little more attractive than I wanted to think.

"Hey." We pick up our heads and see Tara walking out of the large house. "It's been over a day. Still not sick. Doc says I'm cool." I smile at her good news. I was worried she'd turn or something.

"You're a tough son of a butch." Daryl says, spitting on his rag and wiping a small nut clean.

"Daryl, it just means Dwight shot me with a clean arrow." Tara argues.

"Or it means you got lucky. Could be anything. It's not like a bite. Sometimes nothing happens." Daryl shrugs. That's a load of crap right there. Anyone bitten or even scratched can get infected, run a fever and die. Rick said it himself, we're all infected. This whole thing is airborne, we all carry it. Just a matter of time when the scratch or bite triggers it to the worst.

"Daryl-"

"Look, if Dwight knew, could've warned us, could've sent us a message." Daryl growls.

"Maybe he couldn't." Tara defends.

"He let a whole day go by while our people lay around dyin. Everybody else in the battle who got injured got sick."

"That can't be an accident."

"So he just gets a pass?"

"Maybe." Tara sighs. "Look, you said we might need him, and we might need him now more than ever, and what I'm saying is that if I killed him, maybe I would be dead right now. Look, do what you gotta do. But know it's just for you. I'm out." Tars walks away. I hear Daryl grumble before he looks up at me.

"What?" He asks.

"She's right, you know." I tell him.

"How?" He frowns.

"Dwight might've been an asshole before, a murderer and all. But how do you know he's telling the truth when he says he wants Negan dead just as much as we do?" Daryl scoffs before tying the nut back into place and he shoves the rag into his back pocket.

"Come on. Maggie said she wanted to have a small meetin." He says. We walk into the house and straight into the study. Maggie, Dianne, Daryl and I stood around the room as we began and waited for Rosita, who walked in ten seconds after Daryl and I.

"The relay cars are in position. If the saviors are coming back, we'll have 10, maybe 15 minutes heads-up." Rosita says.

"And our ammo?" Maggie asks.

"Bout what we thought. Not enough to fend off another attack of that size." Dianne answers.

"Well, maybe we don't gotta worry about that no more. At least for now. Maybe goin hand-to-hand's our only option." Daryl says.

"You think they're low on ammo?" I ask him.

"B wonders if they're low on ammo." Daryl translates for me. "Well, they must've gone through a whole bunch of it getting through them walkers at the sanctuary." He says.

"And there's not a lot of places to find more." Dianne says.

"Mierda." Rosita growls, causing all of us to face her. "They have our bullet maker. They can make more."