Till Death Do Us Part: A Daryl Dixon Story (The Walking Dead)

41

Erin, three or four years ago

I woke up in heels in this morning.

That's the first thing I noticed besides my being on the floor –the ache in my feet. The tight dress I wore last night was hiked up scandalously high (judging from the breeze I felt). My cheek was pressed against the cold and smooth marble floor. My eyes flickered open and I immediately regretted ever waking up. The blinding light awakened my senses, and with them the horrendous effects of a hangover. A small groan sounded from the back of my throat –a lumberjack was hacking away at my skull. Slowly, ever so slowly, I curled up into a ball on the floor. And then I found myself asking the same question I asked myself every weekend during college: why in God's name did I drink so much last night?

I really don't know how long I just lay there on the floor in desperate need of a piss and a glass of water.

The events of last night started coming back to me. The after-party of Carla and Timothy's wedding. Most of us went to a club in Atlanta after the reception. No, not a club, multiple clubs. There was dancing and drinking. And if my memory served correct there was bumping and grinding too. Uhg. I don't remember much else. I gathered all strength humanly possible and lifted myself into a sitting position. My eyes were thick and my mouth dry. I really need to stop drinking so much. I blinked a couple times and took in my surroundings. I was in a small, unfamiliar bathroom. Great –I thought my days of passing out in bathrooms were over. I kicked my heels off and stumbled/fell onto the toilet. Nothing in the world feels better than peeing after hours of holding it in. I finished and dragged my feet to the basin. I looked in the mirror.

My eyes were barely open. My mascara and eyeliner was smudged, and my lipstick suspiciously missing. I splashed water over my face in attempt to regain my humanity. Squeezing some toothpaste on my two fingers, I brushed my teeth. I adjusted the strap of my dress back in place and gasped at the sight of the prominent bruise on my neck. Dear God, a hickey? Oh, this is bad. My stomach turned at the thought of stumbling out of the bathroom only to find some strange man lying amongst the sheets. I rubbed the hickey as if hoping I could make it disappear. I plonked my slutty ass right back down to the ground in shame and cowardliness. Maybe if I stayed in the bathroom long enough, whoever it was that gave me the hickey would leave. My stomach wouldn't allow for that plan. It growled in agonising hunger pain. I breathed out and chanted some mantra I remembered from the one yoga class I attended years ago.

Fuck it, it's whatever.

I picked up my heels and pulled down my dress. I slipped out the bathroom as quietly as possible. I wasn't sure what to make of the bedroom or rather the untouched, un-slept in bed. The relief was both welcomed and strange. Maybe I'd just gotten some action in the clubs. Alas, my shame came back to haunt me. Lounging fast asleep in an armchair was a strange man. I squinted. No, I knew that guy.

Daryl Dixon.

I closed my eyes and groaned as the memories clarified. Through the blur of bodies and haze of faces in the club, we'd somehow found each other. The dancing, the grinding, it was all him. His lips on my neck, gentle at first before biting down and sucking hard. I touched the hickey and pouted. So what, we got a bit dirty at the club and decided to get a hotel room only to pass out in different rooms? I sighed and figured I could have picked worse people to hook up with. Seeing as I could still avoid an awkward situation, I decided to get the hell out of that hotel room. I spotted my purse on the chest of drawers beside my failed hook-up. I tiptoed across the carpeted floor and carefully reached for it.

Of course Daryl had to wake up.

His head jerked up and his hand gripped around my wrist.

'Oh, hey, you're back.' He said in a sleepy voice. 'Ya took real long in the bathroom.'

I cringed. Oh, this was embarrassing.

'It's morning.' I said bluntly. 'I'm leaving. It was, uh, nice meeting you.'

I stared at his hand around my wrist until he slowly let go, also realizing just how much this hook up failed.

'Would you let me buy you breakfast?' He asked softly, his eyes meeting mine.

And I swear they were so clear and true that they pulled the words from my lips.

//

Daryl and I only managed to keep the baby a secret for one whole day.

This is how it went down.

I woke up to chapped lips grazing across my forehead. Daryl touched my cheek as my eyes fluttered open. We didn't speak. His eyes were on my hidden belly. He reached forward, hesitated and then drew back. I let him leave. I turned over onto my side and fell back asleep.

I woke up hours later. Voices from one of the common areas filled the air. I needed some sunshine and fresh air. I slipped out of the sweater I slept in and pulled on a light jacket. I smiled in greeting to whoever I passed. The sun's warmth was welcomed as I stepped outside. I spied Daryl sitting on the bench table talking to Glenn. He held a steaming mug of something (probably the stale coffee he found on a run that nobody except him drank). I smiled. He looked at ease as they conversed. I joined the two about the same time as Rick did. I stood next to Rick as I greeted them.

Daryl and I shared a smile that was woven with secrets. We're okay, his eyes seemed to say.

The three of them started some idle conversation about tomatoes or something. Until Glenn said something that pretty much changed the game.

'Before I forget, I picked up something a while back for you Erin.' He said, digging around in the black back-pack next to him on the bench.

I waited.

'Catch!' He said.

Low and behold, it was a box of condoms.

Heat spilled over and flooded my face. My eyes widened. Glenn and Rick burst out in laughter. I stuttered an incomprehensible response of swearing and insults that was supposed to shame Glenn.

'Oh, come on, Erin, I'm trying to help out here.' Glenn said with a huge smile as he gently punched my shoulder.

I scowled so deep that I felt the wrinkles form. Glenn lifted his hands in defence, his mouth a straight line.

'Fine, I want them back.' He said. 'I know-'

Daryl cleared his throat and said oh so casually: 'She's pregnant.'

I gasped. This guy! Rick and Glenn exchanged looks, guessing whether or not Daryl was joking.

'Erin?' Rick asked uncertainly.

I opened my mouth but couldn't seem to find my voice. Rick turned to Daryl. Daryl lifted his mug of stale coffee and sipped, his eyes moving from mine to Rick to Glenn.

'I, uh, yes.' I finally said.

You know what followed: the congratulations, the hugs, the smiles of joy. But it bore no meaning. Beneath all that, I saw what I saw. I couldn't deny it anymore.

Fear. Worry.

I saw it in Rick's eyes as he pulled away from our hug. I saw the truth.

You're going to die,

he silently told me.

I looked towards Daryl as he finished the last bit of his coffee. His touch, his kiss, his love. Memories of all three fluttered in my mind. Our eyes met. He gave me a tiny, apologetic smile. I smiled back, my hand touching my abdomen.

I'm going to die.

//

By the way, I read a comment somewhere a while back where someone said something along the lines of Erin and Rick as a couple. Lol, it made me wonder...did anybody else think along those lines? I'm self starting to think about how this book would have turned out if I'd added a little side action with the Sherriff. Haha.

Sorry this took so damn long. I don't even have an excuse.