**Complete**
Riley Grimes. The baby sister of Rick Grimes, a Sheriff's Deputy in King County, Georgia, a real southern man with a southern wife, southern son, and southern best friend, he's a survivor. Riley though? She moved to Maine when she turne...
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When I woke up, it was to whispering, and my head was at a strange angle, but was resting on something surprisingly comfortable, and smelled amazing, so I instinctually cuddled further into whatever it was, and didn't even notice when that thing tensed beneath me, but the whispers never stopped.
"Shut up. Why we stopped?" A voice was whispering above my head, and it was then that I realized that voice was Daryl.
"Hose finally busted. Shane and T-Dog went up to a gas station to see if they could find somethin' to replace it. And Jim's done. They're gunna leave him here. Says he wants to join his family, don't want to be killed or nothing. Wants to turn." That was Merle, but I was still to tired to put any effort into opening my eyes, so I remained where I was, face pressed into whatever it was I was laying on, and not bothering to move.
"So baby brother, what's goin' on here?" I could almost imagine Daryl rolling his eyes at whatever they were talking about now.
"Just... shut up. Get back on your bike. We're movin'." I heard Merle chuckle, and then whatever I was on moved a little as a whining noise came from the window, he must be cranking it back up. And then it was still and quiet again. I felt something run through my hair, but that didn't last long before the truck started rumbling again, and we were moving.
I wish that thing was still in my hair. That felt nice.
And it was. It came back. Whatever it was started stroking through my hair, gently untangling the strands that made it a little more difficult, before running through it again. And that, with the help of the calming noise coming from the truck, lulled me back to sleep.
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Shortly after she had fallen asleep, she had somehow maneuvered herself so she was lying on her side across her seat and Bailey's seat, forcing the dog to lie on the floor of the truck, and had placed her head smack dab in the middle of my lap. So I was having to be real careful with my driving so that I didn't move my legs too much when I switched pedals. After talking with Merle, I couldn't help but run my fingers through her hair again. It was just so soft the last time I did it, and I didn't think she would mind, so I gave into the impulse, and ran my fingers through her hair, brushing it out, for the entire four hour drive after that stop.
