Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty

"If you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch. Make it a good one."

A smaller group were packing up their final things to head back into the city to get Merle. I walked over to them by their car with my hands in my back pockets. Glenn turned around, noticing me standing there with my head down. I saw his feet in front of mine in the dirt below us, causing me to lift my head, which felt like a task and a half from all the crying and drama of the day. He gave me a look of sympathy, worry mixed into his eyes as he placed his hands on my shoulders and quickly moving them around my upper body. 

"C'mere," he said as he held me tightly. I loosely wrapped my arms around his torso, exhaustion eating away at me, and gently laid my head on his chest. 

"No dying this time either, alright?" I said. 

With a small chuckle, he replied, "Of course."

After Glenn, I walked over to Rick. I looked up into his baby blues feeling a lump start to form in my throat. I swallowed it to the best of my ability as tears stung my already-hurting eyes. 

"Bring him back, okay?" 

He nodded before stepping closer to me and lifting his arms for a hug. "Of course." 

I placed a hand on his chest, stopping him briefly. "I'm not talking about Merle," I said seriously but on the road to sounding completely broken. There was a brief pause between us, almost as if we were communicating through our eyes. "He's all I have," I basically whispered, the brokenness finally, no pun intended, breaking through me and my words. 

Rick pulled me into his chest, holding me tightly with one arm around both my shoulders and the other hand holding the back of my head. It reminded me of when Dad would do the same whenever something bothered me about life. 

"You got us now," Rick reassured. I nodded as best as I could. "I'll bring him back, safe and sound, and in one piece." 

I sniffled as I pulled away, once again nodding and mumbling out a small "thank you." He wiped a few tears from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. I couldn't tell if it was a romantic thing, a fatherly thing, or a caring thing. My best guess was a mix of at least a fatherly and caring thing, but maybe a mix of all three. I couldn't tell you, but I greatly appreciated it nonetheless. He lightly tapped my cheek a couple times with his palm before heading back to the car. 

"Rick," I called out. He turned. "You come back, too. Your boy needs you." 

He gave a slight chuckle. "That sounds personal." 

I gave a small smile back. "It is personal."

Then there was my boy. I walked over to him, crossbow in hand, ready to kill any walker that stepped in his way. We just stared at each other for a few moments, reminding me of the day we first met. We had a staring contest for what felt like a long time, but we were both doing pretty bad because we were both blinking. 

"Bring it in, B," he said while wrapping his free arm around my shoulders. He kissed the side of my head much like he did when my father died. We pulled away, once again staring. I inhaled and opened my mouth slightly to say something. "I'll come back," he interrupted. He knew me too well. He then extended his pinky out to me. "I promise." I smiled, interlocking my pinky with his. "Here," Daryl said as our fingers fell and he walked to the passenger side of the car, placing his bow in the seat and walking back with his poncho neatly folded. "You can have it while I'm gone." 

I smiled, "You do know that when you give me permission to this you ain't gettin' it back, right?" 

He looked down, also smiling. "Yeah, I know."