Walking Dead Imagines 101

Y/N’s clip emptied and she reloaded, taking down another four walkers before the two were in the clear. She quickly stowed her gun in its holster, waiting for the inevitable shit-storm brewing inside of Daryl.

He threw his bow on the ground and clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles white.

‘What the hell...’ Y/N was shocked at this response. Daryl usually gutted her out when she did anything remotely risky, but now he seemed to be holding himself back. He turned and Y/N could tell he was poker facing, but the pain in his eyes was there. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close, holding her tightly to his chest.

‘Stop being such an idiot,’ he mumbled into her hair. Harsh, almost cruel words, but Y/N could tell he meant them with love. She tightened her arms around his waist in response.

‘You knew what you were in for when you met me,’ she said, pulling back and draping her arms around his neck.

‘If only,’ Daryl said, leaning down and planting a kiss on Y/N’s lips. ‘C’mon, let’s find some shelter.’

‘Mm, and some alcohol.’

‘Only the best.’

 The pair found a house just before dusk, and old rundown one that reminded Daryl a lot of where he used to live. Y/N knew that overnight, staying in this house might cause something inside Daryl to snap, to be angered at the life he’d led, but she also knew she was safe. Sure, she’d suffer the occasional outburst from Daryl, but he would never hurt her.

‘God, this place is a dump,’ Daryl muttered, kicking a wooden crate, making it topple over.

‘But look at what we have here,’ Y/N said, leaning down and pulling up a box of what seemed like homemade moonshine. She placed it on the old dining table and popped open a jar, taking a whiff. ‘Whoa, that’s the good stuff! Want some?’

Daryl watched Y/N take a sip of the clear, innocent looking liquid. She grimaced and puckered her lips. She then shrugged and took another swig.

‘Nah, better not,’ Daryl said, shaking his head. Y/N cocked her head and looked at him curiously.

‘Why not? It’s not the greatest thing ever, but it’ll work for sure,’ she said, taking a third try. It didn’t taste any better, but she could feel the effects immediately.

‘Just, you know how I get when I drink,’ Daryl said. He needed to stay sober if he was going to be alert enough to protect Y/N at a moment’s notice.

‘You get real when you drink, c’mon, just have a sip,’ Y/N said, holding out the jar for him. Daryl frowned and knocked the jar from her hand, sending it crashing to the floor.

‘I said no! You think now’s a good time to drink? Everyone could be dead!’ Y/N flinched, but she should’ve seen him snapping a mile off.

‘Daryl, I’m sure that’s not true. We’ve just got to get our wits together and then work out how to find them. You need to calm-’

‘No! I do not need to calm down! We could be the only people alive, and I could’ve prevented all of this shit!’

‘Daryl, what are you-’

‘SHUTUP! You can’t just think it’ll all work out in the end, you’re full of shit!’ Y/N took a step back, distancing herself further from Daryl. This was a new outburst. He’d never told her to ‘shutup’, let alone everything else.

‘Daryl, stop, you’re scaring me.’

‘Oh, you’re scared? Maybe you should learn not to be so fucking weak and step up! You can’t even use a damned crossbow! You know what, maybe it’s time you learned, let’s go,’ he snarled, taking two huge steps forward and grabbing Y/N around the waist, leading her out the door, picking up his crossbow as he went.

They got outside and he shoved it into her arms, giving her an arrow.

‘Load it!’ he demanded. Y/N stared at him, her fear clouding her ability to stand up to him. She leaned the bow on the ground and put the arrow in place, pulling back he string. She felt as though it was cutting into her hands and stopped.

‘Daryl, I can’t, can we just go back inside? Please,’ Y/N said looking at Daryl’s burning eyes.

‘You’re not even trying,’ he said, rounding her. He pressed himself behind her and grabbed her hands, making them close around the line, then he pulled.

‘Stop, Daryl- OW STOP IT!’ Y/N yelled, pulling back and escaping from Daryl’s grip, stumbling and landing on her back. She stared down at her hands, which were covered in blood from a horizontal cut across both her palms. Her hands began to shake and she stared up at Daryl, terrified of how far his outburst was going.

Daryl stared down at Y/N, guilt filling him. She’d never looked at him in fear before, let alone been scrambling backwards to get away from him.

‘They’re all dead, everyone’s dead, and know I’m gonna lose you,’ he said, dropping to his knees. Y/N watched him for a moment, wondering if the storm had passed, if it was safe to venture again. Daryl rubbed his face, and Y/N knew he was crying. She stood and walked over to him cautiously, crouching down next to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him towards her. He turned his head and buried it into her shoulder, leaning on her.

‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,’ Y/N assured him, rubbing his back with her fists, trying not to get blood on him. ‘But if you make me bleed again, it’s not going to be okay.’ Daryl scoffed and lifted his head, taking her hands and opening them. He grimaced at the cuts, closing her hands into fists.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he mumbled, holding her hands to his chest and kissing her knuckles. ‘Let’s go back inside, I’ll fix you up.’ He and Y/N stood, heading back to the house.

Daryl lifted Y/N up and propped her on the table, tearing a shirt he found in half, and using it as a bandage. He was delicate and gentle, not once hurting her. He finished and held her hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

‘I think now would be a good time for some more of that moonshine,’ Y/N murmured, and Daryl smiled softly, planting a kiss on her forehead.

Two days earlier, a group who called themselves The Infidels had attacked during a run. They realised soon into the attack that they’d chosen the wrong group to rob, and run, kidnapping Daryl Dixon in the process.

This was a delicate operation that required planning, but as soon as the group left the confines of Alexandria and cut through the razor wire fences of The Infidels camp, their plan fell through. Glenn’s leg caught on the fence, meaning he couldn’t go further, and he was a vital part of the rescue mission. Rosita stayed with him while they headed back to the vehicles and a quick backup plan was formed.

The group was to distract their attackers while Sasha and Y/n searched for Daryl.

Sasha headed to a large house that seemed to be lit up, but empty, while Y/N headed for the old police station.

She got two steps into the station and that beast took its first breath. She saw Daryl’s crossbow lying on the ground beneath a coat rack.

A step sounded from above her head, and she crouched down and pressed herself to the wall, rounding the corner then climbing the stairway. She paused and held her breath when she reached the top, putting her gun in its holster and retrieving a knife.

She stood up straight, not making a sound, and came face to face with a guard. She grabbed the man’s collar and shoved the knife against his throat.

‘Where is he!?’

The man didn’t answer but nodded his head towards the staircase. Y/N pulled the knife away.

Before the man could grab his gun, Y/N buried her knife in his skull and let it go, wrapping her arms around his waist. She slowly lowered him to the ground and flinched as his head smacked on the floorboards. Noise would get her caught.

She quickly frisked the man and found a set of keys, which she pocketed. Y/N checked all the upstairs doors then returned to the ground floor, where she also found nothing.

Either the guard had lied or she was missing something.

Y/N noticed a groove in the floorboards, one that looked out of place. After kicking a rug away so she could gain a better look, Y/N saw a small keyhole near the edge of the groove. She put the smallest key she had into it and turned, hearing a click, and then dug her fingers into the groove, lifting a square of floor out.

Below her she could only see the first few steps of a rickety old staircase. Taking slow steps, the stairs still creaked like no tomorrow, almost in a patronising way. Y/N cursed under her breath and just sped up, hoping that would make the trip quieter. It didn’t.

Y/N made it to the bottom of the stairs and reached her arm out, patting the wall, and eventually finding a switch.

The lights came on and Y/N could now see what looked like an old cell. She swapped her knife for her gun and raised it, walking down the hallway to check the cells.

Just as her hope was fading and the beast inside crawled back into its cave, she found Daryl. He looked tired and injured, but still like he could put up a good fight.

‘I was wondering when you’d arrive,’ he said, looking her up and down, taking her in through half shut eyes. Y/N smiled and used the larger key she had, opening the cell.

‘I bet you were. C’mon let’s-‘

Y/N stopped, seeing Daryl’s expression. His eyes had widened and he was looking over her shoulder. Not good.

She felt a small breeze on the back of her neck, rippling down the back of her shirt. Someone tall. Much taller than her.

Y/N reached for her gun, but the person behind her grabbed her arm and twisted it, making it dislocate. Y/N cried out and turned, using her good arm to knock her gun from its holster towards Daryl. He dived from the concrete bench and grabbed the gun, raising it. He couldn’t get a clear shot without risking hitting Y/N.

Y/N knew this and tried to get the man to turn, but he knew  he’d be shot. Y/N clawed across his face and down his neck. He howled in pain and twisted her injured arm further, then finally turned, slamming her against the bars and hitting her across the face.

Daryl didn’t hesitate and pulled the trigger.

The man stayed standing for a second, turning and looking at Daryl with an expression of almost betrayal, then his eyes rolled back and he dropped, the bullet hole in his back pouring blood.

Y/N stabled herself, clutching to a bar for balance. Daryl stood, putting one hand on Y/N’s waist while he put her gun back in her holster.

‘Let’s go,’ Y/N said, leaving the cell and racing out of the house, Daryl, close behind, who only stopped to grab his cross bow.

Back at Alexandria, the group was glad their ordeal was over. Abraham told everyone he took on three men with guns using only his bare hands, while Michonne whispered to Y/N the truth, that he hid in a shed while she got them from behind.

It wasn’t until Daryl and Y/N were finally alone that Daryl began to replay what happened, and he became furious. What started a small argument almost became a screaming match, which would’ve attracted a fair bit of attention had the house they were in not as far from the others, and half of the group was out on a run.

‘You still can’t use that arm because of your stupid decision!’

‘I wasn’t the only one looking for you! We saved you! Get. Over. It.'

‘It was a reckless choice and you know it!’

‘Oh, come on! Don’t turn this on me! You went too far from us, you were the one who got caught!’

‘And you think I would’ve wanted to come back if they’d killed you?!’

‘What?’ Y/N’s voice dropped considerably in volume, and she stared at Daryl with wide eyes.

‘Without you, all this shit is just a game of waiting for death!’

‘Daryl, what do you-'

‘DON’T INTERRUPT ME! I love you too much to see you die, and you think you can just do shit like this and have me roll over and take it? No! You should’ve known be-’ Daryl froze realising what he’d said and clenched his hands into fists.

‘You love me?’ Y/N asked, stepping forward, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl felt the urge to pull away and continue fighting, but an even stronger one pulled him to her hand. To her.

‘That’s not the point,’ he growled, rubbing his face and avoiding Y/N’s gaze.

One of the men of the group fell, screaming, as a set of teeth sunk themselves into the flesh of his neck. Someone shot the walker on top of him, and you watched in horror as the man choked to death on his own blood before the life spluttered out of him. His gun lay on the ground, and, after a moment’s hesitation, you released your death grip on Glenn’s arm and made a grab for it.

Now armed, you felt a bit safer - there was only one problem. You had absolutely no idea how to use a gun.

“You got any idea how to use one of these things?” you asked.

“That would be a no,” Glenn said. “Although, now would be a pretty good time to learn!”

You pointed the gun at a walker, clicked the trigger, and the gun fired. You missed completely, the bullet whizzing some two feet to the left and hitting a tree instead. You were about to try again when you felt a strong hand grab your ankle.

Screaming, you tried to pull away, but instead you only succeeded in falling on your butt and making your situation even worse. The man who’d been bitten just minutes before had already turned, and he was hungry for flesh.

Before you could attempt to shoot him, or before Glenn could gather his wits and help pull you away, a woman with vivid red hair shot at the walker.

Her first shot missed, and when you felt an explosion of pain in your shin, you knew her bullet had found its way into your leg. Her second shot, thankfully, hit the walker straight in the head, but you didn’t really notice. You were too busy holding back a scream, your hands wrapped around the bullet hole in your leg to try and slow down the bleeding.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Glenn was panicking, you were bleeding, but you managed to notice the gunfire had died down… were they safe?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to shoot you,” the redhead exclaimed, rushing over to your side. You should really learn these people’s names. “Is anyone here a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse.” A small woman stepped forward, with a short, white blonde pixie cut.

The redhead moved aside to make room for the blonde, while Glenn stayed by your side, holding your hand. Every now and then you would whimper slightly, but you were trying not to make too much noise. Loud noises attracted walkers, you’d been told.

“Bullet went straight through,” the woman said. “From the looks of it, there are no bullet fragments lodged within the leg, but it’s hard to tell without the proper equipment. The best we can do is try to disinfect and wrap it up.”

Twenty minutes later, your leg had been sterilized with whiskey (that had grudgingly been handed over by a guy wearing cowboy boots) and wrapped up with strips of Glenn’s hoodie.

With one arm slung over Glenn’s shoulder, and the other around the redheaded woman (whose name, you’d found out, was Veronica), you and the rest of the group began making their way through the forest. It was slow going - your leg hurt and you couldn’t walk on your own, and you can tell the other members of the group were getting fed up with the pace. Glenn was the only one that seemed unbothered.

Three days after you’d been shot, you were sitting on a log while the others set up camp. You felt useless, but Glenn assured you that you’d get better soon and be able to start helping out.

“(Y/N), don’t push yourself. You’ve gotta let that leg heal up, you don’t want it getting infected.”

The other members of the group had sent Glenn and Veronica to go get water. They’d been gone for a few minutes, and some of the signs you were seeing from the rest of the group were beginning to worry you. They hadn’t unpacked, and they seemed rather jumpy, whispering among themselves and avoiding looking at you.

Finally, the nurse - the one who’d help wrap up your leg - spoke.

“We’re really sorry about this,” she said softly, and you were about to ask what on earth she was sorry for, but then, as the members of the group began to disappear into the forest, you realized - they were abandoning you.

You were terrified. Glenn couldn’t know about this, could he? He wouldn’t just… wouldn’t just leave you here, right? You’d know each other for years, he wouldn’t just leave you for dead because you were slowing him down… would he?

You struggled to your feet, not intending to be left behind without a fight. “Glenn!” you shouted. “Glenn!”

“Sorry,” the nurse said, and then you felt someone smash you on the back of the head from behind. You pitched forward, the world spinning, and everything began fading to black.

***

The sound of screaming and gunshots caught Glenn’s attention, and, fearful, he spun around, his hands clutching the gun that Veronica had given him. The rest of the group burst through the trees, screaming about walkers, except…

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Glenn demanded, noticing you weren’t with them. “Where is she?”

“We’re sorry,” someone said. “They got her. We’ve got to get out of here.”

No. That wasn’t possible. That…

“C’mon!” Someone grabbed Glenn by the wrist, dragging him through the woods, but he was still in shock. You were gone. It didn’t seem possible. He couldn’t imagine a world in which he never saw your smile again, never heard your laugh, never made fun of you for crying over cheesy animated movies…

He was crying, but still he ran. He would have time to properly mourn later, but right now he had to focus on surviving. He knew you would never forgive him if he managed to get himself eaten.

So he ran.

***

(1 year or so later.)

“Damn, this place has been picked clean,” you said. “All I found were a couple of cans of green beans and a half empty bottle of water. You fare any better, Charlie?”

“I found a snickers bar and a soda can, so not really.”

You sighed. You’d run into Charlie about half a year ago. You’d bounced from group to group for a while, then been on your own, and then you’d saved Charlie’s ass from a herd of walkers and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“At least it’s better than nothing. Come on, let’s try another place.”

The two of you left the gas station, only to be met with a group of four people pointing guns in your faces. You and Charlie had your guns in your hands faster than you could blink, and that’s when the yelling started.

“Put your guns down!” a man yelled, presumably the leader.

“You first, asshole!” you spat back. Even though you and Charlie were outnumbered two to one, you had no intentions of backing down. Charlie shot you a worried glance. He’d always been more levelheaded than you; he was more willing to compromise, while you went out guns blazing or not at all.

The yelling between the two of you continued for a couple of seconds, before you noticed a familiar figure standing near the back of the group. And, by the look on the Asian man’s face, he recognized you too.

“(Y/N)?”

“Glenn. Nice to see you. I don’t think I ever had the chance to thank you for ditching me back near Atlanta.”

He looked as though you’d physically slapped him, and the other members of the group were looking between the two of you curiously. “You two know each other?”

Before anyone could say anything further, an ear-piercing shriek from Charlie brought everyone back into the present. A walker that had been hidden underneath one of the abandoned cars had crawled its way out without anyone noticing, sinking its teeth into Charlie’s calf.

Without hesitation, you shot the walker, the lifeless body collapsing to the ground, and, looking Charlie in the eyes and saying a silent goodbye, you placed the barrel of the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

You turned back around, the group staring at you in shocked silence and Glenn looking like you’d just killed your own mother.

“Now,” you said calmly. “I would appreciate if you stopped pointing your damn guns at me.”

Glenn was the first to put his gun down, and everybody followed his lead. Satisfied, you holstered your weapon, and stripped Charlie of his.

“You killed him,” Glenn said blankly, and you looked at him as if he’d just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“He was bit,” you said casually. “He was gonna turn so I put him down.”

He stared at you in horror. “You.. What… what happened to you? They told me you were dead!”

You shrugged, giving him a dry, humorless smile. “Long story short? Not dead. I don’t blame you. Looking back on it now, I would’ve left me, too.”

“We’ve got a group, a prison,” the leader interjected, and you stared at him with narrowed eyes. “If Glenn wanted to vouch for you, you’d be welcome to join us.”

You stared at him, and then at Glenn, and then at the two other people standing with them who still hadn’t said a word.

“I’m not big on groups,” you responded. “They either die or get you killed.”

“(Y/N), please,” Glenn pleaded, and you stared at him sharply. “I don’t want to lose you again-”

“Who the hell says you ever found me?” you asked. “I’m not the same person you left in the woods all those months ago. The (Y/N) you knew is gone.”

Glenn fell into silence, but you were angry. That seemed to be the only emotion you ever felt these days. You were either angry or you didn’t care.

“Just give us a try,” the leader said. “If you want to leave, we won’t stop you.”

You stared at them for a moment, considering. You would admit, the thought of being alone again wasn’t appealing to you. And there was a certain safety in being in a group… people to watch your back.

You glanced at Glenn, who looked terrified and confused and amazed all at once. You felt almost nothing for him. Now, he was just another face, another person whose intentions you couldn’t guess. And yet… You still remembered him. How he used to be. How you used to be. Maybe… maybe there was a chance of getting that back.

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

Maybe there was still a part of you in there somewhere, and maybe Glenn could help you find it.

You were terrified. Your hands were soaked with a dead man’s blood - he was already dead when he tried to eat you, so he became double dead when you bashed his head in with a tree branch. You didn’t even know how that was possible. A dead man. Alive. Except, not really alive, because, he was, y’know, dead. And then you killed him. The entire thing made your head hurt.

And then there was Atlanta. You could hear the explosions. Your best guess was that whatever had happened with you was also happening in the city, except on a much larger scale. The thought made you sick to your stomach. How many people were going to die?

Of course, you’d know for a while that something had been off. Some kind of disease. But that’s all it was. People would get sick, someone would find a cure, and then boom! All better. Obviously, that hadn’t happened.

What you really wanted to do was find Daryl. He’d know what to do. He was your friend, your redneck in shining armor - he was there for you when nobody else was, and if anybody would be able to help you through this mess, it would be him.

There was one small problem, however - you were incredibly lost. During your little run-in with your cannibalistic friend, you’d managed to get completely turned around and your mind was far too jumbled to find your way back. The best you could do was walk around aimlessly until - hopefully - you saw something that you recognized and were able to find your way back from there.

***

He had to find you. You were all alone out in the woods, weaponless and clueless, and Daryl would be damned if he let anything happen to you.

He was jumpy, firing his crossbow at everything that moved - Daryl Dixon didn’t scare easily, but the dead rising? Someone would have to be a goddamn idiot to not even be a little bit scared.

Movement off to his right. He fired his crossbow. Squirrel.

He cursed, retrieving his arrow out of the rodent he had skewered and reloading his crossbow. He was never going to find you if he wasted his time shooting every leaf that rustled in the breeze. Get it together, Dixon, he thought angrily. She’s countin’ on you.

Daryl was more scared than he would ever admit The thought of not finding you - or worse, finding you killed by one of those things - no. He couldn’t even think about it. He cared about you too much.

He was getting closer now. He’d followed your tracks deep into the forest, and - something moved to his right, and he wildly fired an arrow. It hissed through the air. Nothing was there.

“Goddamn it,” he spat, reloading his crossbow. He ignored the rapid pounding of his heart, instead focusing on the tracks that lay before him. So far, the tracks had been in a straight path, making them easy to follow.

But then Daryl felt his heart stop. Another set of tracks joined here, and yours had veered sharply to the left, there had been a struggle, and then…

Blood.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, no.”

He took a step backwards, squeezing his eyes shut and turning around, trying to regain a hold on his crumbling composure. His hands trembling, he took a deep breath and continued following the trail, his heart sinking with every step he took. There was blood everywhere, and - Daryl turned around a tree, and he could have cried with relief. One of the dead ones, head smashed in. A bloody tree branch lay a few feet away - the murder weapon.

Thank God. He was about to resume his search when he heard something move a couple of feet to his right. He fired instinctively, and his ears were met with a cry of pain.

Shit.

***

“Jesus, Daryl!” you cursed, looking up at him from your new spot on the forest floor. “How’re you gonna survive with aim like that?” You’d just been shot, and it fucking hurt. That wasn’t going to stop you from giving Daryl a hard time, though. Oh boy, you were never gonna let him live this one down.

“I thought you was one of the dead! It ain’t my fuckin’ fault ya done snuck up on me like that!” He was trying to sound angry, but he was relieved. Relieved that one of the dead hadn’t killed you, and relieved that he hadn’t.

“Do I look dead to you?”

“Shut yer mouth and lemme see your arm,” he said, and you obliged. It wasn’t too serious of an injury, thank goodness. The arrow hadn’t stuck in your arm - it had ripped through the side, leaving a deep gash on your bicep which could be easily patched up.

“Thanks for comin’ to get me,” you said softly, and Daryl laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wouldn’t have done a damn bit’a good if Id’a killed ya.”

“Luckily, your aim is horrible,” you said. “Now, do you know exactly what the hell is goin’ on? I had to kill a… well, whatever the hell it was.”

“The dead are risin’, but a headshot puts ‘em down real quick,” he said, and quickly followed up with the question, “that motherfucker didn’t bite you none, huh?”

“Sure tried to, but I’m all good.” You stood up from the ground, brushing dirt from your pants. “What do we do now?”

“We get the hell outta here,” he said. “And we stick together.”

“That sounded corny as shit,” you joked, “but alright, sounds good to me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Let’s get ya back home, fix that arm of yers.”

“That you shot,” you chimed in helpfully, earning you a glare from Daryl.

“And then we’ll find some safety, a’right?”

“You mean, safe from you and your triggerfinger?”

“I may shoot ya now just so you’ll close yer mouth,” he grumbled, as he started making his way back through the forest.

“You love me too much for that,” you said, grinning cheesily up at him, walking quickly to keep up. “Besides, you’d only miss again.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“A little help here would be nice!” you shouted, but everyone else was too focused on their own battles to pay you any mind. Everything was in chaos - what was supposed to be a simple supply run had quickly taken a turn for the worst. You didn’t even know where all the walkers had even come from - one second they weren't there, and the next they were everywhere.

Just when you thought your arms were about to give out from the strain of keeping both walkers at bay, they were being ripped off you. Quickly scrambling up to your feet and grabbing the machete that had been just out of reach, you disposed of one walker while Abraham took care of the other.

“Thanks, you totally saved my ass,” you said, but you were barely able to get the words out before Abraham’s hands were on your shoulders, spinning you around frantically as he checked for bites.

“You ain’t fuckin’ hurt, are you?” he asked, and the intensity in his face was almost frightening. His eyes were wild, fixed on yours as if you were going to disappear if he looked away. He was still holding onto your shoulders, so tightly you were surely going to have bruises, and you registered the fact that his hands were trembling.

“I’m fine, no bites, no scratches -”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “The only injuries I have are the goddamn bruises you’re leaving on my shoulders,” you said, keeping your tone of voice light and joking. His grip on you wasn’t comfortable, that’s for sure, but you didn’t want him to think he was hurting you.

Nevertheless, he jerked back as if your skin was as hot as fire, looking off to the side to avoid meeting your gaze. “We should head back,” he said, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment. You weren’t quite sure what you’d been hoping for, but it certainly wasn’t that.

He turned sharply on his heel, heading straight towards Glenn and Maggie, and you quickly followed.

“(Y/N), you all good?” Glenn asked, and you gave him a thumbs up and a cheeky smile.

“I’m all in one piece, thanks to our furry ginger friend over there,” you said, jerking your thumb towards Abraham, who had already situated himself behind the wheel to one of the two cars they’d brought and slammed the door behind him.

“We saw you go down,” Maggie said. “We tried to get to you, but we couldn’t get through all the walkers quick enough.”

“Hey, my ass is still intact so everythin’ is all good,” you said, clapping her on the shoulder as you walked past. “I’ll see you two back at Alexandria.”

You plop in the passenger seat next to Abraham, closing the door behind you and propping your feet up on the dash. He was strangely silent, and you furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

“Hey hotshot, you okay?” You felt your stomach drop. He hadn’t been bit, had he? You hadn’t had a chance to ask, what with him spinning you around in circles like a ballerina and all.

When Abraham didn’t answer, you could feel your chest seize up. Please, please don’t be bit. “Abe, are-”

“I could’ve lost you,” he said, cutting you off before you could repeat your question. “Dammit, (Y/N), I couldn’t lost you.”

The words froze in your throat as you stared at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. The sound of an engine starting and a car driving off - Glenn and Maggie - was enough to break you out of your silent stupor.

“I’m alright, though,” you whispered, sliding your feet down from the dash, enabling you to lean closed to Abe. “I’m alright.” The both of you stared at each other in silence for what seemed like forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute.

“We should go,” he said.

“Yeah.”

With difficulty, Abraham turned himself away, about to start the car, but you weren’t quite done with him yet. Without thinking, you quickly leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, before plopping your feet back on the dash and staring out your side window like nothing had happened.

Silence for a moment. And then -

“What the shit was that, (Y/N),” he said. “You can’t just tease a man like that, get your ass back over here.”

You giggled, twisting your body around to face him. Before you could so much as blink, Abraham had closed the distance between you, his hands cupped to your cheeks, noses practically touching.

“Can I kiss you now?” he breathed, and you’d barely nodded before his lips were on yours. The kiss was passionate, but quick, over far too soon for your liking.

“That’s all you got, cowboy?” The words were barely audible as they left your lips, but Abraham heard. His mouth curved into a faint, familiar smirk as he pulled back.

“Oh, just you wait ‘til we get back. I’ll show you exactly what I got.”

“Christ, Daryl, that was a bad one,” you muttered, reaching your arm out to take comfort from the warmth his body would give, but you felt nothing. All that lay beneath your outstretched arm was the cold fabric of empty sheets, and that’s when you remembered. Daryl was gone.

It felt as if you were losing him all over again; the pain crashed over you in waves, your chest burning as you drowned in it. The image was seared into your brain - Negan’s baseball bat arcing through the air, the sickening crunch of barbed wire embedding itself into Daryl’s skull -

You kicked your blankets off in a panicked frenzy, tears stinging your eyes and your throat constricting as you struggled to breathe - get out, get out, you had to get out, out, out!

Your bare feet landing on the carpeted floor, everything passed in a blur as you raced towards the door of your bedroom, shoved past a concerned Sasha at the top of the stairs, and practically exploded out the front door.

The sky was spinning, the stars twinkling in silent laughter as they looked down from the heavens, and you were falling, falling - your knees hit the pavement and the sight of blood made you want to vomit.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Bits of brain scattered in the grass. Daryl’s face, oh God, his face - gone. Nothing left. Unrecognizable. Smashed into jelly.

“No,” you said, your shoulders shaking with sobs. You wanted these images out of your head, but they refused to leave, content with tormenting you. 

Negan’s laughter. The smell of death. Daryl’s body, cold, lifeless, empty. You were crying. You wanted to scream, wanted to throw yourself at Negan, rip his disgusting head off his disgusting body, but you did neither of these things. You sat and you cried and wished that you weren’t so helpless.

Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. You felt like you were dying, but in reality you were already dead. It didn’t matter that you were still breathing, that your heart was still beating - no, you died with Daryl. Your body might still function, but your soul, your heart, whatever made you you - it had left this world with the man you loved.

You felt soft hands on your back, someone whispering words of comfort into your ear, but it meant nothing to you. It wouldn’t bring Daryl back. No matter how many people said ‘I’m sorry,’ it wouldn’t bring him back to life.

But nothing would bring Negan back to life, either, and you’d sworn to yourself that you would kill that sorry bastard, rip his heart out for breaking yours.

Even if it would be the last thing you would ever do, you were going to kill him.