The Walking Dead Imagines

Unappreciative

"Daryl, why don't you take Y/N with you?"

You weren't sure if you were meant to overhear Rick's suggestion or not. You stiffened, back turned, waiting out the heavy silence that followed: was that Daryl's answer? You would be lying if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the mere idea of getting sent on a run with just him – but as always, you couldn't tell if that slight flutter was from excitement or anxiety. He hadn't even answered yet.

Returning your focus down to the pistol in your hands, you opted to pretend that, maybe, you didn't hear. Save Daryl the awkwardness of having to either deny your help or, worse yet, get stuck with the likes of you on a run. Not to say you couldn't handle yourself — you absolutely could — but you weren't certain Daryl was as eager to seize the opportunity for some potential alone time with you as you were with him.

You liked Daryl. He's smart, resourceful. Kind, deep down — you knew it to be true, whether or not he ever admitted it. But one thing he wasn't...was open. You could hardly tell whether he liked you, or tolerated you at best.

Safer to go with the latter, you thought with a shrug — and continued reassembling your pistol.

So you were surprised when you heard a gruff response from close behind you: "Yeah. Alright."

You chanced a look over your shoulder at the archer and offered a friendly smile to which he nodded in response. Between the two of you, the run was bound to be successful; you were both experienced enough to navigate the terrain around you silently and also skilled enough to take on most situations that presented themselves – threatening or otherwise. Daryl had a way of getting everyone out of dangerous situations whilst you had a way of diffusing them before they could even get that far. So traveling to the nearby town to search an untouched daycare center for formula and other necessities for baby Judith? That'd be a cakewalk.

Daryl hardly spoke once on the way there; not that you'd expected him to. And you were fine with that, really – it wasn't an awkward silence, at least for you. It was a comfortable silence, an alert silence, both of you having each others backs and keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings at all times. Working silently was the best way that you two did work, it seemed. You didn't need words – you could communicate efficiently through glances and nods and hand gestures, tag-teaming walkers with flying colors, easily overcoming obstacles and challenges you were faced with as if you'd been doing this your entire lives. Essentially, you thought to yourself, you both had. It was a natural partnership.

The realization weighed heavily on your mind, though: if it was that "natural", why did he always seem to avoid you?

The daycare center was a two-story brick building on the far corner of 32nd Street and Greengarden Boulevard; a neighborhood that, one or two years ago, would've been far too high class for either one of you to show yourselves around. You'd driven by it several times, sure — you vividly remember the spectacular Christmas light displays the residents always took pride in, but not once did you ever imagine yourself having to scavenge it for necessities after the world came to its untimely demise. Kicking over dead bodies and crunching on the decayed bones of those families who'd strung up all those lights every holiday season with smiles on their faces.

You sighed. "I think there're two entrances," you whispered softly, seemingly reading Daryl's mind as he pushed open the chainlink fence that led you to the property. For the most part, the building seemed relatively untouched from the outside. Most buildings were boarded up or burnt down, but the daycare stood strong against the dreary gray horizon. Even the playground, eerie as it was, looked as though it had just been abandoned after the recess bell. But you both knew well enough to take precautions, acting as if it was infested entirely, as nothing was ever as it seemed anymore. "An emergency exit in the back that leads to an alleyway between here, and the hardware store next door. I remember it having a door into the daycare."