I'm With You ➝ Daryl Dixon

sleepless.

fourteen.

She cried quietly that night, unable to face laying in her bed and closing her eyes. It had only been two days since Jacqui's death and she still hadn't quite gotten used to not having her around. She always slept next to her, Jacqui passed out on the sofa to her right, Amy to her left whilst Layla looked up at them from the RV floor. She would always whisper to her about her home, about how she missed how her soft pink rug would feel on her feet in the bathroom after a hot shower, about her neighbours, her family, her friends. Now there was only an empty sofa with a space on the floor that felt even colder than before. Jim's hat still sat in the same place he had left it, looking down at her as her tears fell silently onto her pillow. And to make matters worse a child was missing. A child so sweet, so innocent, so unprepared - lost in the woods. This world was cruel and Layla hated it.

The nights seemed to drag sleeplessly anyway, but upon hearing Carol's soft wheeping for her child and Andrea's muffled cries for the loss of her sister it made it all so much more unbearable; she couldn't stand to be inside the RV a minute longer. Sunrise was only a few hours away, the fresh air would do her good.

She pushed her fluffy socks into her boots, zipped up the gray fleece Dale frequently let her borrow, and quietly escaped the RV. An empty feeling in her stomach seemed to cry out - she missed how back at the camp Amy would always tell her to be careful if she wandered alone at night. There was no more vocalised concern.

The RV steps creaked a little as she stepped down onto the highway gravel. She knew she was safe - Daryl sat in a campers chair outside, shotgun beside him and crossbow on his lap. Layla noticed how different he looked with extra layers on disguising his usual dirtied sleeveless attire. He looked cosy despite the weapons. He eyed her curiously, noting how cute she looked with her hair up messily shoved beneath the hood of Dale's fleece, the edge of which just skirted the tops of her knees. He smirked at the sight of her fluffy pink socks peaking out of her boots - a stark contrast to the muddied black leather.  

If the world hadn't gone to shit, the two could have passed as normal happy campers.

He was fiddling with the string on his crossbow, smoothing it out with his fingers in search of any weaknesses, but his eyes stayed locked on the woman as she came to join him in the fishing chair next to him. She yawned as she fell into the seat, leaning her head right back so she was comfortable.

"You ever sleep?" Daryl asked, averting his gaze as she looked over to him. His voice quiet but still just as deep as usual for the redneck.

"How'd you know I'm not sleeping now?" She joked, closing an eye.

"Yeah. It makes sense you'd be annoying in ya sleep too." Daryl teased.

"Shut up." She chuckled. 

"You alright?" He asked curiously, wondering why she wouldn't be trying to get some rest in before tomorrow's search.

"Why you asking?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Can I not ask?"

She chuckled at the excess of questions, "I don't think we've ever had a conversation where we don't communicate in questions."

"You sure?" Daryl asked with a smile, looking at her. 

"Oh, God." Layla chuckled again at his joke, "Yeah, I'm okay." But her voice broke a little and she knew she'd gave herself away, "It's just...Jacqui..and Jim."

Daryl nodded sadly. He knew she'd bonded with them both, finding comfort in their lone-wolf type characters soothing as she could relate. He thought how now, without Merle, he felt like that too, "I know."