Sightless

Daryl Dixon

A/N: Hey guys! So I noticed that my normal voters didn't vote for the 'Calvin and Mara Anderson' chapter, did you all not like it? If not, please let me know why so I can fix it! Thanks loves, enjoy the chapter!

~ Today ~

I could hear his heavy breathing from a few feet away, but the sounds of the dead that had separated us had stopped, so at least we were safe for now. 

"I can't..." He whispered harshly, and then water hit my shoulders in waves as he rushed away from me and back towards the shore. 

"Daryl?" I called, feeling the panic eating away at me once again. Maybe there was a big group of them behind me, maybe he couldn't take them on and left me, who knows his reasoning, but I was now stranded in the lake, with two hopefully dead zombies between me and the shore, and hopefully nothing else. 

I could hear his panting when I finally refocused on him, and not myself. He hadn't run off like I expected, just moved out of the water and back to shore. 

"Meg, I can't." He said again, but I still didn't understand, and when I moved a step forward, I knocked into a stiff figure. It took me a moment to realize it was one of the zombies, floating just below the surface. It was dead, as when I moved it didn't retaliate, but it made me wonder if there were perhaps more dead floating in the water around me that weren't as dead as this one. 

"Daryl... can you please help me?" I asked, trying not to sound like I was panicking as much as I was, but the sounds of his inhales was bothering me. They were too fast. I had never heard him breathe that fast. It almost sounded like he was having a panic attack. 

"Daryl?" I asked again, forcing myself to remain calm. Whenever I have my attacks, the only thing that helps me is the soft, soothing voices of others. Maybe it could help him. 

"Meg-" He tried, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by a sharp breath of air, almost like he couldn't control it and that's when I was sure. 

I stuck my hands out, and when they met the gross spongy texture of the body that I had bumped into, I shoved to the left, pushing the body out of my way. Daryl was straight in front of me, I could tell that from his breathing, I just needed to get to him. I took a step forward, and another, and met another spongy body. It didn't move either, so I shoved it also. 

Six more steps, nine, ten, and as I stumbled forward with my hands outstretched, ready to catch myself if I tripped over, or grab onto Daryl when I got close enough, a hand grabbed mine. I flinched, surprised, but when it didn't pull me closer or growl, I relaxed, but the grip only got tighter. 

His grip on my left hand was so tight that I was losing feeling but I moved closer anyway, and reached my right out until I grabbed his shoulder, and then used his body to guide it up to his face, and then the back of his head, where I could, for the first time, feel how soft his hair was. 

"Daryl. Deep breaths. Come on, copy me. In." I leaned forward, and pressed my forehead to his, ignoring the sharp puffs of breath that fell on my face, I inhaled slowly, and for a moment his didn't copy me. 

"Come on Daryl. In." I ordered again, more firmly this time, and when I breathed in again, he mimicked it. Choppily, and he had to let out a short breath before inhaling slowly again, but when I finished he held his breath with me for three seconds. 

"Out. Slow." I mumbled, letting the air escape my lungs slowly, and I could hear his doing the same. When I inhaled again, he didn't need instruction, and by the eighth time, he had calmed down. The grip on my hand had relaxed, and he was leaning heavily into me, so much so that my forehead almost hurt with the pressure. 

After the ninth breath, I leaned back, and he jerked upright. 

"It's okay, calm down." I mumbled, refusing to release his hand even though he had already let go. 

"I'm sorry." He grunted, sounding exceedingly uncomfortable, but I found that it was cute almost. Endearing. 

"It's okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?" I asked, trying not to pry since I knew how that felt, but I really wanted to know why he hated water so damn much. 

"No. We best be gettin' back." He murmured, ripping his hand away from mine, and I tried to hold in the flinch when he did but I knew he probably saw it anyway. 

"Did you see Max? Was he okay?" I asked when Daryl clenched my forearm in his hand and started dragging me, presumedly, back up to camp. 

"He was fine when I left to come after ya. Dog was protectin' 'im. Told me where ya went. That was stupid ya know." He grumbled, but I said nothing, choosing to bask in the fact that Max and I had, against all odds, survived another day in this hell, all because of this redneck man who pretended not to give a damn about anyone, but secretly had a heart of gold. 

When we finally reached the camp, and Daryl practically shoved me up into the RV and he had walked back down the steps and out the door to leave, but I stopped him, not caring if anyone heard, or saw, or what they thought, I needed to say this. 

"I know you don't think that you care about any of us, and that we don't care about you, but you couldn't be more wrong. You have saved us more times than anyone, and we wouldn't be here without you. I don't care what anyone says, you are this groups most important asset. You may not want to hear it, but we care about you. I care about you. So, if you want to talk about it, I'm always free." 

All I got in return?

The RV's door, slammed in my face.