#twd alpha

“Daryl!” you call out into the empty woods, not caring who else or what else can hear you. “Daryl!”

When Carol, Jerry, and Kelly’s group came back short a few members, you barely had to hear what happened before knowing what you needed to do: they found Alpha’s horde but got trapped in a cave, and after it collapsed with two of them still inside, Daryl left to go find the Whisperers himself. Typical Daryl, you thought, grabbing your weapons.

“Where are you going?” Luke had called as you stomped towards the gate, armed to the teeth with your knives strapped to your thighs, bow across your back, and hatchet in hand.

“To find Daryl,” you had yelled back over your shoulder after signaling the guard to open the gate.

“But it’s going to be dark soon,” he tried again.

“Exactly,” you replied as you took off running into the trees.

And it was dark now. You’ve been out here for hours. Even though you’ve been on plenty of hunting trips with Daryl, you were no tracker, so you’ve resorted to yelling his name in hopes that he’ll pop out of a bush to tell you to shut up. No such luck, of course.

Walkers and Whisperers alike had found you, but they were no match for the blind rage that consumed you. You slashed and stabbed and shot anything that got in your way. At this point, you were sufficiently covered in both blood and walker guts, giving you convenient camouflage should you need to hide from anything. 

But you are done hiding. You are ready to face the world, both dead and alive, head on, if it means that you find him.

“Daryl!” you yell again, scanning the woods. A branch snaps behind you. You whip around, bow loaded with an arrow in your bloody hands, ready to strike. You know it’s not Daryl - he would never make so much noise in the woods. This is his domain.

Through the shadow of the trees, you spot a solitary figure, peering at you from behind a tree with their hands up. You step forward, keeping your weapon raised. But when you get closer, the light from the full moon casts a glow across a familiar face and wide brown eyes.

“Oh my god, Lydia,” you breathe out, lowering your bow. “Are you okay?”

The teen steps out of her hiding place. “Y-yeah,” she stutters out, walking towards you. You open your arms and she falls into you, wrapping her thin arms around your waist. 

“Thank god,” you whisper. You hold her with your free arm, cradling her head and rubbing her hair. She breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Have you seen Daryl?” you ask her when she pulls away.

Lydia nods. “He was fighting my mom,” she chokes out. “They both went towards this old shop, and then walkers found them.”

Fear laces through your veins like ice. 

“Take me there,” you order Lydia, and she nods before turning and showing you the way.

The old machine shop is decrepit. The front garage door is wide open, and it’s half overtaken by nature, like the woods are trying to eat it up. You and Lydia approach quietly. You crouch behind one of the outer walls to peek in before entering, but she walks right in. When you follow her, you see Alpha, laying in the middle of the floor, covered in blood. Lydia kneels next to her as if in a trance.

You scan the rest of the shop for Daryl, but you don’t see him. Panic builds in your throat, and you’re ready to yell his name out again when you see a pool of dark liquid half hidden behind a counter in the back corner. Creeping towards it, you peer around to find Daryl in a pool of blood.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, dropping to the floor. You crawl to him, barely registering the warm liquid seeping through your jeans. “Daryl, oh my god, Daryl,” you say through the tears welling up in your eyes as you pull his head onto your lap. 

Leaning forward, ear close to his mouth, you hear him wheezing out breaths. He’s alive!

“Daryl,” you say to him, “Daryl, I’m here. I got you.” You brush his hair out of his face, and find a slash on his forehead that’s painted his face with blood too. Using your sleeve, you try to clean him the best that you can. “I’m here, babe.”

Daryl’s wheezing pauses, and he lets out a low groan, not unlike one that a walker would make. 

“D-daryl?” you ask breathlessly. Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead.

He moans out your name, eyes fluttering open, trying but failing to focus on your face. 

“I’m here,” you reassure him, letting out a sigh of relief that his eyes are still blue. “I got you, you’re safe.” 

He tries to lift one of his hands to your face but he’s so weak, it flops back onto the ground. You reach across him and lift it for him, holding it to your cheek. It’s covered in blood, but you are too so you don’t care.

Daryl moans your name again, faintly rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

“You found me,” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper.

“I did,” you answer as the first of the tears fall from your eyes.

“You always do,” he mumbles again, eyes falling shut.

“I always will,” you laugh through your tears. “Always.”

“I know,” he says, the faintest of smirks on his lips.

Daryl’s hand starts to drop again and you let it, but instead of hitting the ground again, he moves it towards his left thigh.

“M-my leg,” he mutters.

“Okay,” you reply, gently lifting his head to move it off of your lap. “Let me take a look at it.”

When you slide down to inspect his leg, you find a huge stab wound. The blood has stained his clothes and his skin so dark that you can’t even tell if it’s still bleeding, but you can see that it’s bad. You steal a glance at Alpha, who’s laying on the floor alone now. You can’t see Lydia anymore, but you can hear scratching coming from somewhere in the shop, so you know she’s still around.

Turning back to Daryl’s wound, you quickly peel your leather jacket off, tossing it to the side. Then, you yank your shirt off over your head to wrap around his leg. You press it to the wound and the blood immediately starts seeping through. As gently as possible, you lift his leg so you can get the fabric underneath. Then you tie the sleeves together tight, but not too tight. You really aren’t in the mood to have to cut his leg off tonight. 

When you’re done, you slide back up to Daryl’s face. It looks like he’s passed out.

“Lydia,” you call quietly, slipping your leather jacket back on over your bra. “I need your help to get him out of here.”

She pops around the corner, freezing at the sight of him passed out in a puddle of his own blood.

“He’s alive,” you say quickly, knowing what it looks like. “But we have to get him out of here.”

Lydia nods, dropping to a crouch next to him. Together, you and Lydia lift Daryl up by his arms, and each slip under one of them. Careful not to let his leg drag, the three of you slowly make your way out of the shop, past Alpha, and back into the woods.

Unfortunately for you and Lydia, Daryl is not a very light man, so the two of you don’t get very far before you have to put him down. You prop him up against a tree, before falling to the ground next to him, out of breath.

“We’ll have to stay here for a while,” you say, trying to breathe. Lydia nods, suppressing a yawn. “Sleep,” you tell her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, but you can see she’s fighting to stay awake.

“Yeah, I got it,” you reassure her, taking your bow in your hands and nocking an arrow. 

It’s already the middle of the night, only a few hours until sunrise. You pace around your makeshift campsite for a while, keeping an eye and an ear out for any walkers or Whisperers but nothing appears. Every couple of minutes, you double check that Daryl is still breathing. He’s the strongest person you know, but you’re still so scared of losing him. He lost a lot of blood yesterday, and your shirt isn’t much in the way of real medical care. 

The sun is fully up when Lydia starts to stir. Yawning and stretching, she sits up to find you sitting next to Daryl, one of his limp arms wrapped around you as you scan the trees.

“You wanna get some sleep before we try to move him again?” she asks you. “I can keep watch.”

“Nah, I’m alright,” you say quietly, not wanting to disturb Daryl. The man never sleeps, so you aren’t trying to ruin it for him now when he needs it the most. “I don’t think I’d be able to actually rest with him like this.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” Lydia sighs, looking over Daryl’s unconscious, blood-soaked form. 

You slip out from under Daryl’s arm, placing it gently back at his side. “I’m gonna try and find some water or food though,” you say, standing. “You good to watch him?”

Lydia nods, crouching in front of him. 

Loading your bow again, you take off into the woods. Moving quietly, you try to find any signs of animals around. Nothing, of course. But you do find a small stream. You fish the water bottle out of your pack and fill it up. The water’s clear, at least. It’ll have to do until Daryl is fit enough to move again. 

Thankfully you don’t encounter any walkers either, real or pretend. As much as you know you can’t sleep with Daryl in such a bad state, your body is exhausted, and even the thought of having to wrestle with the undead makes you want to fall over and never get up. Eventually, you give up on hunting and make your way back to Lydia and Daryl.

When you get close, you hear voices. You freeze, straining your ears to listen. And when you hear a familiar low rumble, you take off in a sprint. You crash through the trees and you’re immediately met with bright blue eyes, alert albeit exhausted.

“Daryl!” you shriek, dropping to your knees next to him. As careful as you can, you wrap your arms around the man. “Oh thank god.”

“Alright alright,” he grumbles into your hair. “Calm down woman, I ain’t dead.” But despite his complaint, you feel his hand find the small of your back.

You pull away, taking his face in your hands. “You almost were, dummy,” you say, landing a big messy kiss on his forehead.

“You look almost dead,” he scoffs, reaching up and holding your cheek, which is crusted with blood, both his and the Whisperers you fought to get to him.

“Thanks to you,” you shoot back, smiling. 

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles again, a small smirk on his face. It quickly falls and he grows serious. “We gotta get back.”

You nod. “Think you can get up?” you ask him. He immediately tries, straining with the effort, but you and Lydia are there to help him. Under each of his arms, the two of you help him to walk.

The three of you make your way to where he left his bike. Struggling with his injured leg, Daryl climbs on and slides all the way forward, making room for you and Lydia on the back. It’s a tight squeeze, but you make it work. When you and Lydia are settled, Daryl turns the bike on, engine rumbling through the quiet forest, before setting off for the Hilltop.

The gates open as soon as the guards spot the three of you coming, and Daryl steers it inside, parking right in front of the big house. Yumiko, Luke, Kelly, and Jerry are there, and they come right up to the three of you.

“Any sign of them?” Yumiko asks as you and Lydia slide off the back of the bike.

“We didn’t get that far,” he replies. 

“What do you mean?” Kelly asks, concern in her voice. “What happened?”

“We gotta talk,” Daryl grunts as he tries to get off the bike himself, before giving in and letting you help. 

“D, I’m sorry,” Luke pipes up. “We gotta find our people, man.”