*Daryl Dixon love story*
In a post-apocalyptic world where the dead come back and eat the living, Maevys Grimes finds herself clinging to the last shred of her humanity as she fights to keep her family alive. The blood, the loss, the gore: these thi...
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125 miles—that's what lies ahead. They're trying for Fort Benning. After the disaster at the CDC, it's clear to the survivors that Atlanta doesn't offer sanctuary anymore. They have barely any food, water, or gas. The children are terrified, and their fighters are exhausted. Previously clean skin now carries a layer of grime, and it seems it'll be a long time before they're offered that kind of relief again.
Rick feigns hopefulness, but the energy surrounding him feels strange to Maevys. Something happened before Jenner opened the security door, something that has Rick feeling like he needs to prove himself. Something that leaves him on edge. She sees it in his movements. In the expressions that cross his face before he masks them. He knows Fort Benning is a long shot, but what else can they do? No destination is guaranteed anymore.
They've siphoned gas and prioritized vehicles. Carol's SUV carries Rick, Lori, Carl, Carol, and Sophia. Dale drives the R.V. with Andrea, T-Dog, Glenn, and Shane in the back. That leaves Daryl on his motorcycle—and Maevys with a decision. Her brother's car is full, but there's no way she's getting into the RV with Shane. And she has no option to drive herself.
Daryl watches Maevys where she stands beside Lori, the two of them quietly observing Shane climb into the motorhome, whispering to one another. Shane throws them a look—something Daryl immediately takes note of. He doesn't like the look on Shane Walsh's face. Cold. Detached. It's unsettling the way he watches Lori... and Maevys. Something's not right.
Lori murmurs something to Maeve that makes her glance toward Daryl. He quickly diverts his gaze, trying to look like he's attending to his bike. Maeve squeezes Lori's shoulder, says parting words to her nephew and brother, then approaches Daryl with her hands shoved awkwardly in her front pockets.
"Hey..." she starts, puffing her cheeks as she looks down at the bike.
"You riding with me?" he asks, getting right to it. A flash of mild surprise crosses her face before it's replaced with relief.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd let me," she says, a little too formally for his taste.
"Just get on," he huffs, shaking his head as he positions himself to ride.
Both of their belongings are stashed in Rick's trunk, leaving space for Maevys to climb on behind Daryl. His crossbow hooks perfectly to the back of the bike—unfortunately for Maevys, she's had to stash her bow. But she'll make do with the knives and gun strapped to her legs.
"Where do I put my feet?" she asks as she settles onto the seat, hands resting on his shoulders to balance herself. Daryl tries to ignore the flutter that erupts in his chest at her touch, but he knows his cheeks are burning.
"You've never ridden before?" Maeve shakes her head. Her cheeks are a little pink too. "Put your feet up on this ledge here," he instructs, reaching back to tap the spot.
Maeve situates herself, hesitating only briefly before wrapping her arms around his waist. This is her only option, and she knows if Daryl minded, he'd tell her to fuck off.
