Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Au Revoir

"What a peculiar state we're in."

A few more days passed, more routine, more nothing. My little man learned how to shoot a gun, and I still can't figure out how that got past Lori. Daryl was recovering, slowly getting back out there. Carol was...not in the best of shape. I didn't know what to do to help because, believe me, I desperately wanted to help her. 

It was early morning. I exited my tent into the warm summer Georgia air, not that it was any different inside my tent. Daryl was standing outside his now that he was okay enough to leave the Greene's house. 

"Hey," I said as I approached him. He looked up briefly from a hunting knife he was cleaning. 

"Hey," he said in return. 

"Where you going?" I asked. 

"T'look for Sophia." He slung his bow over his shoulder as he began walking off to the edge of the woods. Something was off about him today. Something was eating away at him. I stood there dumbfounded for a moment before blinking a few times and jogging to catch up with him. 

"Can I go with you?" I asked. 

"No," he said with no doubt in his tone. I stuttered for a second, honestly confused. Why was he acting like this? 

"Well, why not?" 

"'Cause I said so," he said flatly. 

"Oh bullshit," I said. We were far enough away from the group outside that our argument would stay between us. An unnecessary argument, if you asked me. Daryl rolled his eyes and leaned his head back in annoyance as he turned around to face me. 

"Why won't you let me go?" I asked again. He let out a huff of frustration through his nose. 

"It's dangerous out there," he said as he turned around and entered the woods. What the hell? I stood still for a moment before, again, jogging over to catch up. 

"And?" I said. "It's not like I haven't seen the shit that goes on." 

"And I don't want you to get hurt," he threw over his shoulder. 

"I'm not asking you to fucking babysit me, Dixon. I'm asking if I can go with you as your fucking friend." 

"And I fucking said no," he said through clenched teeth as he turned around, coming face to face with me. 

The gurgling of a walker caused both of our heads to turn. It stumbled over in our direction, arms out and flailing. Daryl moved to go and do the deed, but I grabbed the strap of his crossbow pulling him backward. I took my hunting knife out of its sheath, marching over to the walker. I grabbed it by the throat and harshly slammed its head against a nearby tree before plunging my knife into its softened skull. I pulled it out, letting the walker fall beside me, limp and fully dead. I turned to face Daryl who looked even more pissed at me. 

"I can handle myself," I said. "And I want to go with you." 

"And I. Said. No," he said as he, again, came face to face with me. 

"Why're you worried about me so much?" I asked angrily. 

"You know why," he retorted, pointing at the side of my head and leaning forward a bit more, a habit I learned he did when he was angry.