million dollar man | twd

ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀs

[ to the survivors ]
꧁꧂

The group found a small clearing to make camp for the night. The air was thick with the lingering tension from their narrow escape from Terminus, but they had no choice but to rest and regroup. The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the weary faces of the survivors.

Being the two people who just couldn't sleep, Daryl and Vanessa were on watch.

Daryl leaned against a tree, his crossbow resting on his lap. He glanced over at Vanessa, who was staring into the fire, lost in thought. His mind drifted to the countless moments they had shared, the silent understanding between them, and the unspoken feelings he had buried deep inside.

She had said she was grateful for their friendship, and he had accepted that, getting used to the dull ache that came with unrequited love. It was a constant, bittersweet presence, something he had come to live with.

Vanessa, on the other hand, was mulling over Michonne's words from the previous day. She had never thought of him that way before, always seeing him as her closest friend. The first real friend she'd ever had in her life.

But now, the idea planted in her mind, she found herself seeing him in a different light. She noticed the small things—the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he always seemed to be there when she needed him most. Her heart raced at the possibility, but she was also filled with apprehension. Michonne could be wrong.

And if there was one thing Vanessa was good at, it was ruining things.

Daryl's gaze lingered on Vanessa's face, his jaw tightening as he took in the bruises that marred her skin. The memory of the previous night, the terror and violence, surged through him, igniting a familiar anger and deep-seated protectiveness. He shifted slightly, clearing his throat before speaking.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough with concern.

Vanessa looked up, meeting his eyes. She offered a small, weary smile. "I'm fine. Just want to forget about it."

Daryl's heart ached at her words, but he nodded. "Okay," he said softly, though the worry never left his eyes.

A sudden noise from the woods snapped their attention to the dark trees. Daryl's hand tightened around his crossbow, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the perimeter. Vanessa held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Daryl strained to see through the darkness but eventually relaxed. "It was nothing," he murmured, though he kept his weapon at the ready, his senses heightened.

Despite Daryl's reassurance, Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling of dread. Her hands trembled, and her breaths came in shallow gasps. The darkness seemed to close in around her, each shadow a potential threat. Memories of the attack the night before flashed through her mind, intensifying her anxiety. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her racing heart, but the panic only grew.