Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Family Reunion

The walk to Alexandria should've been quick, would've been quick, if Henry hadn't decided to audition for The Walking Wounded.  Yes, I knew he had a "semi-serious" knife wound in his leg, but honestly? The kid was milking it harder than a dairy farmer on double shifts.  Every time he hissed dramatically or stumbled half an inch, Lydia would rush to his side, eyes wide with panic, only for him to puff his chest out and declare that he could "handle the pain."

Rinse.

Repeat.

By the twelfth round of this teenage soap opera, my patience had packed its bags and left for Cancun.

I spun around, fixing Henry with a look sharp enough to cut him deeper than that leg wound.  I even tried to smile politely at Lydia, but judging from her terrified expression, it came out more murder face than reassuring travel companion.

"Henry," I drawled, "I understand you want to tap that ass..."  His eyes bugged out like I'd just announced it over a PA system.  He started shaking his head in denial, but I calmly raised a knife and pointed it at his face. "and under normal circumstances, I might even root for you.  But right now your slow, limping ass is keeping me from my kids, and that, my friend, is hazardous to your health."

The kid went pale enough to pass for a walker.  Honestly, I think he might've fainted right then and there if Daryl hadn't stepped in with his usual brand of redneck diplomacy.

"A'right, let's keep movin'.  We're almost there."

Henry shuffled past me, trying to look tough but moving about as fast as a three-legged turtle, while I rolled my eyes and blew a stray strand of hair out of my face.

"Was that necessary?" Daryl muttered.

I arched a brow at my husband.  "Since when do I do things because they're necessary?" 

He caught me wincing as we started walking and drifted closer.  "How them ribs feelin'?"

"Like a giant who collects people's skin as a hobby decided to tap dance on them," I muttered.  He hummed, lips pressed tight, worry flickering across his face.  "I'm fine, Katniss.  Nothing a couple shots and some expired pills won't fix."

He snorted, slipping his hand into mine as we trailed the teens.  Thankfully, Daryl's freakish land-nav skills didn't fail us, and soon the gates of Alexandria came into view.  I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been strangling.  It had been days since I'd seen the twins.  The longest I'd ever been apart from them.

When the gate didn't swing open right away, my temper snapped clean in two.  My eyes locked on the frazzled young woman on watch.  She said something to someone out of sight, then squared her shoulders, shotgun wobbling in her grip.

"Open the gate," Daryl barked.

Her throat bobbed, but she held her ground, pointing at Lydia.  "Who is she?"

I stalked to the front of our group, eyes blazing.  "Do you know who I am?"  Her eyes went wide; her hands trembled.  She nodded.  "Good.  Now look at my face.  Do I look like I'm in the mood to play fuck-fuck games?"

"Red..." Daryl warned.

"You've got three seconds to open this gate, or I'll rip it down with my bare hands.  And if it comes to that, you'd better pray that pea-shooter you're carrying does more than look scary."

"What the hell ya waitin' for?!  Open the goddamn gate!"

Never thought I'd be so glad to hear my brother-in-law's voice.  The gate groaned open, and I cut one last glare at the guard, who wisely kept her eyes anywhere but mine.  Smart girl.