Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Fresh Air

"Caught in a cycle, so pardon my psycho."

I woke again in the middle of the night. Luckily, this time it wasn't because of a nightmare. I just happened to wake up, simply opening my eyes and becoming aware of my surroundings.

I was laid on my side, my bedside table being the first thing I noticed. The covers were pulled up to my chest, covering my bare skin. Daryl and I christened our house, as they say. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Turning my head, I saw Daryl on his side, his back to me. His breathing was very steady, signifying he was out like a light.

I focused my gaze back to the ceiling, placing an arm behind my head. My eyes followed the plaster swirls above our heads. It reminded me of after the Governor attacked the prison and Rick, Carl, and I were in that house. I sat the same way as I thought about Daryl.

I tried to think back to simpler times but the reminiscing seemed to backlash. I thought back to times where my father was alive and I would meet Daryl in that clearing every day. I thought about the times when we would walk through the town at night and sit on the park swings just talking. I thought about that time in high school where my friends convinced me to try marijuana. I was still high when Daryl found me walking home. He nearly dragged my ass back home to make sure I got there safely, even holding back my hair when I puked on the sidewalk because I ate too much.

As much as I loved remembering this, I wanted to go back. I wished we could relive in that time frame when life was simple, I wasn't worried about life or death, and I had fun with everything. I knew adulthood was sad and upsetting but this...this is just something else.

I sat up in bed, holding the covers in their place, not that exposing myself was an issue. I continued to let my eyes drift around the room, eventually focusing on the sleeping man beside me. I should be content with this. This is what I've always wanted; a life and house with Daryl Dixon. Why was I so dissatisfied? Maybe it's the posttraumatic stress. That is the reason I'm not sleeping.

I carefully slipped myself out from under the covers. I needed a breather from this. I slipped a pair of panties up my legs and quietly rummaged through the closet of clothes left behind. I managed to find an old Rolling Stones shirt, throwing that over my head and going downstairs. I grabbed Daryl's pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the pocket of his vest before stepping out onto the front porch.

Though cool, the night air was muggy. It was thick like the thoughts running through my head.

I sat on the swinging chair, resting my feet on the railing and gently rocking back and forth. I pulled out a cigarette, placing it between my lips before lighting it and taking a long drag. The nicotine calmed my nerves, momentarily slowing down my racing memories.

I thought back to something Daryl said the other day. We ain't married yet so it doesn't work. Then I remembered the morning after he and that group found us, the group we massacred. He was focused on my ring finger. What is he thinking about? Will he ever tell me? Will he act upon it? How is that going to affect our rational thinking on things?

As I continued to smoke, my mind wandered through so many different avenues. I had begun thinking about my mental state, lack of sleep, suicide. I didn't feel right. It almost felt like I was just watching myself go through the motions of our life. I've been traumatized time and time again and I haven't been anywhere near handling it well. I just want it all to stop.

Blinking a few times to come back to my senses, I didn't even realize I began crying or finished the cig. Pulling my feet from the railing, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I grabbed the package and lighter and stood. I took a quick glance around the night streets of Alexandria before tossing the cigarette butt onto the asphalt.

I didn't even try to cover my tracks, finally feeling the fatigue catch up with me. I left Daryl's items on the counter and trudged back upstairs.

I slipped back under the covers. Daryl hadn't moved from his original position. I'm glad one of us could sleep well.

I rolled over to face the bare skin of his back. My eyes wandered from scar to scar that marked him. With each piece of flesh that was altered, I wished I could take away that pain. I wished his memories of their origin didn't have to be etched in his brain. I wished he didn't have to feel insecure about it, or flinch every time I brush my hands across them in positions like this.

Out of habit, I gently kissed as many of his scars as I could. I hoped it brought serenity to his lightly-freckled skin. He didn't deserve this.

His shoulder twitched slightly, causing me to back up a bit. Figures, I would end up waking him. He shifted onto his opposite side, now facing me. His eyes were still shut peacefully, no creases in his skin and no frowns, showing he was still sound asleep. Or so I thought.

"You okay?" he mumbled, his voice thick like the muggy air outside. It startled me, and I mentally scolded myself for disturbing him.

"Mhm," I squeaked, barely getting the sounds out of my throat.

"No, you're not," he tiredly stated. That led to more mental scolding. Daryl lazily raised an arm and wiggled his fingers. "C'mere."

I scooted into his embrace. He wrapped both his arms around me, resting his nose in my hair. I was shoved into his neck, he stubble prickling at the top of my cheek. I felt like a child being wrapped up like this but it was the kind of comfort I needed. Daryl languidly puckered his lips to kiss my forehead. I glanced up at him with my eyes at this.

"I love you," he murmured. I could feel his vocal cords vibrate against my nose nudged against his throat. A small smile played at the corner of my lips.

"I love you," I whispered

***

When I woke up again, the room was brightly lit and Daryl was gone. I had a bitch of a headache. I rubbed my eyes as I sat up, still tired because of all the broken sleep. I threw my hair up in a ponytail before getting out of bed, slipping on a pair of pants and my boots. The house was eerily silent as I went downstairs.

"Daryl?" I called out. Nothing.

As I entered the kitchen, I saw a note on the counter. I picked up the piece of paper in my lightly-trembling hands.

B,
fixing up a bike. Don't wait up on me. Love you
~D
p.s. know you took a cig

I chuckled at his note before placing it back on the counter. I decided to go out since he wasn't here. I think I needed the fresh air.

I walked through the streets of Alexandria with an airiness in my step. I felt calmer and more tranquil. I didn't feel like the weird girl who kept having nightmares and smoking on her porch in the middle of the night.

I reached the house I was looking for, hopping up the steps and knocking on the door.

"Hey, are you--" I stopped, taking in Carol's clothing once she opened the door. She had a nice button-up shirt underneath a floral printed sweater. She even wore a huge smile. "What in God's name are you wearing?"

"Thank God, it's you," she sighed, dropping her over-exaggerated smile. "I'm trying to blend in and get them to trust us better."

"Right," I said, dragging out the word. "Well, on that note, are you doing anything? Figured I could get out of the house for a bit."

Carol gave me a genuine smile, a motherly one. She grabbed my hand and tugged me into her home.

"I was just about to make some cookies."