Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Sign Of The Times

"Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?"

I didn't want to move when I woke up. In fact, I didn't want to do anything. Daryl moved me between his legs while I was asleep. I was cuddled into his chest, my arms crossed over my stomach. Daryl's were wrapped around me protectively. For the first time in a while, I've never wanted him to be more protective of me. I cherished everything about this moment. So much so that I didn't dare move. 

I shifted my gaze down to our hands. He held onto my left, gently running his thumb across my ring finger time and time again. It got me thinking. Did he ever want to marry me? Would we have gotten married if the apocalypse didn't happen? Does he think about it? What's he thinking about right now?

I let out a small yawn, alerting Daryl I was awake. I felt him shift his gaze as his fingers moved to tangle with my own. 

"Hey," he mumbled.

"Hey, love."

"Doin' okay?" I nodded against his shoulder.

"Think so." I looked up at him before sitting more upright. Daryl let his hand fall from mine to sit on my hip. "What about you?" I asked, playing with his hair. "You doin' okay?" Daryl frowned and shrugged. 

" 'M okay as I can be."

I pouted slightly, a small sigh leaving my nose. I stroked his cheekbone with my thumb a few times, taking note of his features and the way he watched me. I carefully traced under his eye, the skin a dark, gruesome purple.

"Anything hurt?" I questioned. Daryl nodded. "Where?"

"Eye, ribs, back," he listed. 

"Poor baby," I cooed.

"Look, I could be bleeding out and I'd still carry you," he said. " 'M fine, don't worry."

"Don't tell me not to worry about you," I chided, repeating his words. He let out a small huff to which I smiled. 

"Like I said, pain in my ass."

"Love you, too, bub." I patted his cheek before standing.

I wiped the dirt off my pants once on my feet. Lifting my head, I noticed Rick pacing slightly, in his own little world. I could catch sight of the blood that's settled into the hair of his growing beard. It stained the skin around his lips, his cheeks, and bits of his nose. Sadness was evident in his shifting gaze.

It was scary to see up close, honestly. What he did was horrifying enough, but seeing the remnants of some man's blood smeared across my friend's face...it was something entirely different. It got me thinking of the blood that was now on my hands. The Governor's people and now this group. It was chilling.

"Belle," Rick began, probably noticing how unsettled I felt. I cut him off with a tight hug. I wasn't interested in talking about what he did or why he did it. It's in the past. We're here and we're all alive. He tentatively wrapped his arms around me in return.

"Thank you," I said. Rick seemed to freeze at my words.

"You shouldn't thank me for what I did," he countered.

"You kept us safe. My big mouth and I are here because of you. Carl is here because of you. I'm thanking you for keeping us alive."

"I have so much blood on my hands," he whispered. He sounded so broken.

"We all do, Rick. I do. Daryl does. Believe me, I hate it, but it's kept us safe, so thank you." He was quiet, silently arguing with himself about the rights and wrongs of everything that's happened. "Look," I added, "I understand you used to be a cop and this was never part of your workload, but we can only play the good guys for so long. There's nothing wrong with that, Rick."