Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

A Life Debt

I jolted awake with a gasp, going from completely horizontal to vertical so fast it made my head spin.  I pushed my hair out of my face, looking around the room wildly for the twins.  They were exactly where I'd left them an hour ago, sleeping in the bassinet beside the bed.  My heart thumped in my chest like a jack hammer while I took slow, deep breathes to calm my irrational panic.

In my sleep deprived dream they'd needed me, cried for me, but when I reached for them they weren't there.  I couldn't find them, couldn't reach them.  It was terrifying.

Daryl grumbled unintelligibly beside me.  He'd fallen asleep fully clothed, boots and all, lying on top of the covers, a discarded burp cloth still clutched in his hand. 

The twins were exactly a week old. 

That was 168 hours. 

And we'd been awake for 160 of those hours.

No one bothers to mention babies don't sleep.  They tell you they're small, and cute, and can't feed themselves, but they don't tell you that they're vampires.  I'd survived some of the world's most grueling military training, and nothing, not one damn thing, prepared me for the first week of my children's lives.

They cried when they were hungry, or wet, or tired, or for no reason whatsoever.  Our entire world revolved around feeding, changing, and attempting unsuccessfully to keep them happy.  I couldn't remember the last time I showered, and I was almost certain the last time Daryl ate was three days ago.  I only remember because that unfortunate day was marked by Dom unceremoniously projectile vomiting like the Exorcist after a feeding gone wrong.  One second the kid was happy as a clam swinging in his chair and the next he was painting the walls with breastmilk. 

Let me tell you, that kind of display will clear a house out.

We hadn't had a visitor since then.

I threw a blanket over my snoring husband before struggling to my feet.  The twins would be up for another feeding in half an hour, if I was lucky, which I was not.  I could use that time to try and sleep or wash some of the spit-up out of my hair and maybe choke down a quick meal.  My husband may be on a hunger strike, but since I was currently serving as an all you can eat buffet for the twins I didn't have that luxury.

I took the world's fastest shower, mostly because I was worried I'd fall asleep standing up.  As quickly and quietly as possible I combed my long hair, pulled on a pair of enormous sweatpants that had to be Daryl's and a T-shirt from Merle that had the words "You can't scare me, I have twins" tattooed across the front, and tip toed across the room.

Chief Ramhorn's tailed thumbed against the floor when I walked by.  I paused to bend down and scratch under his chin.  He was obsessed with the newborns, rarely leaving their side.  I was trying really hard not to be jealous.

Creeping out of the dark room I made my way downstairs into the kitchen.  There were piles of fresh fruit on the kitchen island and the fridge was stocked full food courtesy of every person we'd ever met.

Ripping open a banana I tore off a small piece, shoving it into my mouth while I washed an apple.  Slowly I moved around the counter, humming to myself while plucking a knife from one of the drawers.

Using reflexes I hadn't employed since giving birth I spun on my heel, simultaneously flipping the knife and curling my fingers around sharp edge.  Pulling my arm back I threw it as hard as I could.  The blade sailed through the air towards the man obscured by the dark lurking in the living room.  At the last minute he dove forward into a roll, the knife embedding itself in the wall with a thwack.

Anticipating his move I was waiting for him when on the opposite side of the island.  Dropping down I used my left leg to sweep his out from under his body just as he attempted to gain his footing.  Rolling to the side I straddled his body, a razor-sharp knife pressed against the sensitive flesh of his exposed throat.