Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Survival of the Fittest

"What's on yur mind?" Daryl asked as we made our way to the covered pavilion where Carol was getting her Iron Chef on. I bit my lip, pulling my ponytail tighter, trying to shake off the funk following me this morning.

"Nothing." Daryl stopped, putting a hand on my arm. "I just feel...off."

He frowned. "Ya sick?"

He scanned me from head to toe trying to identify the source of my discomfort.

"No, it's nothing like that."

I looked around the prison. There was a group of people laughing and eating under the pavilion. Carl and Rick were feeding the pigs. A group of kids were hanging out near the fences probably naming the walkers again, and I made a mental note to talk to Carol. She'd taken Lizzie and Mika under her wing because I was a "less than ideal role model" for the scarred young girls. Her words, not mine, not that I disagreed. If anyone could get the eldest sister to snap out of her psychosis it was Carol. Lord knows she didn't listen to a word I said unless it involved a new way to main someone which only proved Carol's point. I grew up with my fair share of issues, but Lizzie was playing on an entirely different level.

I bit my lip, sighing, turning my attention back to the masses. Everyone looked happy and carefree. I too should feel lighthearted. It'd been over a month since we'd had anything even resembling an "incident" and everyone was settling into daily life at the prison. We were making a home here, taking in new survivors, and everyone appeared to be thriving, everyone but me. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't enjoy our reprieve. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. All this happiness made me twitchy.

"It just feels strange."

"Strange," he repeated, not understanding my anxiety.

"Everything is so calm, so domestic, so normal." I waved my hand around at everything and nothing. "We might as well start an HOA."

"And that's bad?"

It wasn't bad per say. Unsettling was a better word for it.

"I can't remember the last time someone tried to kill me?" That was simply unprecedented.

He smirked, "Hate to break it to ya, but most people wouldn't be upset 'bout somethin' like that."

"I know."

I never claimed to be normal.

The fact we were even having this conversation was a testament to my abnormality. That Daryl, the once hotheaded, unpredictable hunter was the one patiently talking me through it showed how far he'd come. This was love. Talking to your husband about the fact you felt weird because someone wasn't shooting at you and having him understand completely.

"'Sides, I heard Merle threatin' to kill ya just yesterday cause ya taped a plastic knife to his stub while he was sleeping."

I chuckled, "Oh yeah, that was great."

Unlike his younger brother who went from deep sleep to 100 mph in the blink of an eye the elder Dixon took a solid 30 minutes to shake off a REM cycle. It took at least another 10 minutes until he was lucid enough to be dangerous. He made it all the way to breakfast before he realized he had a spork taped to his stub. Classic.

Unfortunately for him I didn't take threats to my life seriously when they came from my brother-in-law. Captain Hook chasing me around the prison and screaming in vivid detail what he would do once he got his hands on me did nothing to take my edge off. Merle was slower than a geriatric slug crossing a salted street, but even if he could catch me he'd never hurt me, despite his promises to the contrary.