Adapting (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 18

Gemma's P.O.V
We stand around the fire at the campsite, waiting for Daryl to return from his questioning with Randall. There has been a sick pain in my stomach since Rick and Shane returned with him from the school. I haven't been involved much with the group since the incident, everyone slightly afraid of the unhinged woman.

"So whatcha gonna do? We'll all feel better if we knew the plan." Lori says, as she pours herself some water from the kettle.

"Is there a plan?" Andrea asks.

"Are we gonna keep him here?" Glenn asks.

"We'll know soon enough." Rick says, nodding into the distance.

We all look up and see Daryl coming towards us from the direction of the shed. As he walks towards us, I see his knuckles bloody and bruised.

"Boy there's got a gang. Thirty men. They've got heavy artillery and they ain't looking to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. Our women are going to wish they were." He says, venom in his tone.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath at the news, another wave of panic overcoming me.

"What did you do?" Carol asks.

"Had a little chat." Daryl says.

"No one goes near this guy." Rick commands.

"Rick, what are you gonna do?" Lori asks.

"We have no choice, he's a threat. We have eliminate the threat." Rick states.

"We're just gonna kill him?" Dale asks as my heart sinks.

"It's settled. We'll do it today." Rick says before walking away with Dale close behind.

We all look around with different expressions. Fear, anger, worry, acceptance. Everyone turns to go off and do their own thing and I see Daryl flexing his hands as he walks.

"Daryl!" I call out.

He stops and turns to look at me, giving me a glare, "What?!" He growls.

I walk up to him and ignore his rude tone, "Do you want me to patch up your hands?"

He looks down at them, "They're fine." He says as he walks away.

"If they go untreated. It'll only get worse!" I call out.

He stops again and his shoulders heave before he turns around and begins to walk towards me. I turn and head into my tent where I now keep a few supplies so that we don't always invade Hershel's space. He steps in behind me and looks around for a moment.

"Take a seat." I say, as I start to grab the things.

I hear him sit and I turn, placing the things on the table. I pull the other seat over and begin to get to work on his hands. The silence is overwhelming after awhile, neither of us willing to speak.

I decide to swallow my pride, "How is he?"

Daryl looks at me before speaking, "Bloody and bruised."

I sigh and begin to wrap up his hand, "Is he scared?"

I look up and see him studying me, not answering. "Figured as much. He always was a pussy." I say, turning back to his hand.

"How do you know him?" He asks.

"From a very long time ago." I say quietly, avoiding his question.

He's quiet for a moment before he looks down at our hands, "What happened?"

His fingers skim over the bloody bandages around my knuckles, "Nothing." I say, moving my hands.

His fingers catch my arm, his thumb running over my wrist. He looks down when his fingers go over the raised skin and he turns it over. His eyes look down at the faded pink scaring, his thumb a featherlight touch. I look at his face, trying to gage a reaction from the unreadable face I've come to love. His eyes look up and meet mine, swimming with emotion I can't quite understand.