Instincts (Daryl Dixon FF)

n i n e

[Season 4, before Internment]

Margo's P.o.V.

Other than thought it felt unbelievebly liberating to cut off my hair, I figured it to be heartbreaking or at least very difficult but instead my fingers pressed the scissors together again and again until my long mane was gone. I felt refreshed, almost lightheaded, happily spinning around infront of the mirror. A slight dizzyness washed through my head but I enjoyed it, feeling my body responding.

There were blond strands scattered all over the floor, laying over my feet, hanging on my trousers and I tried to push them into a pile but more or less just caused them to fly around the small room, mixing with the dancing dust particles. After cutting off some more, I shook my head to get rid of the loose hair, ignoring the mess on the floor and went down to put the scissors back into the dirty jar on the shelf. Then I searched my way outside of the prison.

Fresh air and broken sunbeams hit my face like a soft wave of holiday parfume, no trace of rotten meat or smoke, which was a rare thing these days and I filled my lungs to the brim, exhaling as slowly as possible, trying to keep the feeling that was sprawling trough my body. This faint feeling of being alive, of not being some corpse slumping around the globe. I could still be dizzy and hungry, I could still feel the burns of the cuts on my face and the ache in my feet, I was alive, often not fully feeling like it but I was alive. I functioned like a machine but I also didn't, I walked miles like a zombie but at some point I stopped.

I heard out some voices in the distance, Nico and Carl laughed loudly about some TV Show they both had used to watch and Rick was talking to Carol on the field, their trousers rubbing against the high grass and the shoes making dull sounds on the ground, simulating an idyll. After a few moments Nico seemed to notice me, his eyes darting away from Carl. Within seconds he jumped off the stairs they were sitting on, almost stumbling over Carl in the process, and came running towards me, his hair jumped in the air with each step, making him look even more adorable than he already was.

"Heeey Margo", he smiled, embracing me in his thin arms, his face was pressed against my chest and I gently laid my hands around his shoulders, pulling him even closer. I could feel his breath on my cleavage, tickling my milky skin, my nose was nestled in his hair, breathing in his smell, our smell. Me and him sitting onto the couch, playing FiFa on the Xbox, sometimes getting up for some food or a glass of water, laughing whenever our parents told us to finally go to sleep. The home that we had lost a long time ago but still carried in our heart and would never allow to leave, the love and comfort civilazation had given us would stay in us like an old habit and its smell burnt into our brains.

After we loosened our hug a bit to see each other's faces, I smiled, "You seem to really get along with Carl", motioning my gaze over to the small boy, who was still resting on the stairs, proudly wearing his Cowboy hat, fingers kneading the leather belt on his jeans.

"Totally, even if he's a bit younger, we have like tons in common", Nico told me, grinning from ear to ear, "That's great", I answered, pressing him against me one last time before whispering, "I'll go talk to Rick now".

Nico seemed like he instantly knew my plans and was happy with them, he nodded approvingly, his eyes sparkling with joy, sometimes it was almost scary how good he seemed to be able to read me. I let him run back to his new best friend, before I dusted off my old pants, hands nervously shaking as I tried to feel for the knife I had stuck between the hem of my shoe and my calf. If I didn't make the right decision now, it would cost us our lives.

Unsurely but determined I put foot after foot on the mushy ground, the wet dirt getting stuck on my shoe soles, my heart racing, my hands sweaty but still I felt powerful and strong, because I knew my skills and they didn't, I gave them a small foretaste when I left but without weapons it isn't as much fun, is it? Rick had already seen me the moment I came out of the old door, patiently waiting for me to talk to my brother and take the time to recollect my thoughts until I finally walked over to him.

He had propped his forearms onto the stick of the shovel, "You look better.", I didn't really know if it was a compliment or just the fact that I wasn't all dirty and sick looking anymore but still, I cracked a small smile, pretending to be happy about his positive comment. "I guess you made up your mind about our-", he cocked an eyebrow, trying to find the right expression for what he wanted to say, "- group relationship". "I want to go on the run.", Rick looked a bit startled but nodded in agreement at my suggestion, he shifted on his feet, his hip bending the other way, "alright, well, we can go on one tomorrow in the-", I shook my head, "No, tonight.", my decision was final, I wanted to see them fight and solving problems, not just easily gathering some supplies, so I could take measure of my possible future co-workers. They had to show quality and quantity in order to make me think about a possible cooperation and to make me trust them with the lives of my family but if they would, there was no drawback. Soldiers don't just run from the war when the gunfire starts.

Rick's face was masked with stress, the wrinkles on his forehead aging him to a point where he seemed ten years older than he actually was as he supported himself on the table. His quietness filled the hallow room with a subtle tension, I could feel it, pulling at my hair, scratching over my skin, I could feel their fingers, itching in my ears and I hated it. I would've ripped them out of their joints to get rid of it.

"A'right, Daryl, Michonne, you'll go with her.", he dropped his head, pressing his Fingerprints into his eyesockets. I heard them sigh, Michonne knocked her hand on the table before standing up and brushing past me. They weren't happy about my plan but I didn't care, I pushed myself from the doorframe I was leaning on and went to gather some weapons. Serveral knives and an emergency handgun went into the pocktes of my trousers. My father closely watched my movements, his arms were crossed infront of his chest, his brows furrowed. I knew he wasn't concerned about me, I had hunted alone for the past years and learned to react instinctivly to sounds but other humans are not as predictable as hunger driven zombies and that gave him a sour stomach.

About an hour later we were all ready to go off, Michonne and Daryl were strolling to the cars but before I could follow behind them my father roughly grabbed my upper arm, pulling me back. "P for P.", he hissed, I nodded, returning his gaze, "P for P." He let go of me, still looking slightly unsure but seemingly trusting in my ability and experience.

I walked through the field, approaching the small green car near the gate. Rick was watching me carefully, the chain tightly grasped in his hands to open us the way out of the prison area. He looked just as exhausted as he did before, the wrinkles on his front remaining in his skin like a dark red ink. It was almost the same colour like the bags under his eyes. I opened the car door, Michonne and Daryl sat in the front, already waiting for me. They're annoyance wasn't gone but I didn't care. Daryl had put his crossbow on the backseat next to where I sat.

The car ride was quiet. I concentrated on extraordinary trees or signs on the way so I would find back. Just in case.