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sharkbait77 · 3 years ago

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The Singer (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Chapter Five

Warnings: Hoo boy okay this one is a little darker, please proceed with caution. I don't explicitly describe any domestic abuse, but it is mentioned & very heavily implied. Language, self deprecating/anxious thoughts, self doubt, feelings of worthlessness, sadness, those mean little voices in your head. I'm sorry if I missed any, pls lmk!

W/C: 4.1k

A/N: So this one is a sad one, the next chapter (5.5) I have written is completely optional because she does go further into detail about what she went through (nothing graphic) so I don't want anyone to read it if they're not comfortable. You won't miss much if you skip & since it's just under 2k I'll be posting it right after this chapter. I also did not put the tag list on 5.5 in case anyone on my list is not comfortable. Please be cautious, I may be over exaggerating but I'd rather play it safe. Also ionkno nothin about nothin when it comes to fbi stuff so just humor me lol

Songs mentioned:

(The version I imagined Reader singing for Iris is so great & beautiful, pls check out the karaoke version!)

Chapter 5.5 (ONLY IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE)

Chapter Four | Chapter Six

The Singer Masterlist

Marcus walks into the bureau, a cup of coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other, pressing the button with his elbow to call the elevator. He's humming the jingle to some toothpaste commercial he saw this morning, the little tune sticking in his brain. It's been so long since he's allowed that to happen so he doesn't mind the thirty second melody looping in his head. He stands there, patiently waiting for the elevator doors to open when Anthony comes up behind him.

"Hey Pike, you sound like you're in a good mood," he smiles.

"Well, I'm just excited that we're finally catching up to this guy," he replies. The doors open and they both enter, along with other workers for different departments.

"You haven't heard yet?" Anthony asks and Marcus glances over at him with a questioning look. Anthony leans his head to Marcus's ear to whisper.

"They know where he is, we have a last known location so we're leaving for Australia tonight."

"Tonight?!" Marcus asks loudly, the others in the elevator turning to glance at him. Anthony nudges his arm and shushes him.

"Dude," he shakes his head.

The doors open to the art department floor and Marcus and Anthony exit. They walk to Marcus's office and he closes the door roughly, throwing his briefcase on his desk and turning back to Anthony.

"No one thought to call me and let me know?" He asks, frustration with his team building. "When did all this happen?"

"Just this morning boss. I thought you knew man, I'm sorry," Anthony says while he rubs the back of his head. Marcus sighs deeply.

"Well, what matters is that we know where he is. See if we can get an earlier flight so we can get this over with."

Marcus dismisses Anthony and sits down in his chair, rubbing his temples to soothe the oncoming headache. He wants to talk to you, to call and hear your beautiful voice, but you've been avoiding him. He's even shown up at the bar to talk to you and you leave faster than you would if the building was on fire.

He feels awful; he knows he scared you when he opened up about Teresa. He gave you time and space, but it's been two weeks since that night at your apartment and he was starting to get worried you wouldn't want to see him again. He at least wanted a chance to talk about it with you.

Me: Dulce, please call me

Me: I need to talk to you

* * * *

A month passed by. A whole month of you dodging Marcus's calls and attempts to talk to you at the bar. He was there the two weeks that followed the date at your apartment, hoping to catch you, but you expertly disappeared as soon as you would finish singing, using the 'under the weather' excuse for not joining the crowd like usual. You felt so cowardly, so mean for what you were doing to Marcus. And when he didn't show up the two weeks after, you were heartbroken. Unrightfully so, seeing as he probably only caught on to your game and decided to do what was best for him. Why are you like this?

You sit on your couch as you wait for Celina to pick you up, the ghost of Marcus still lingering in the air. You were having such a great time with him. Why did I decide to cut him out again? You don't know the answer anymore, only your pitiful excuses. Your phone buzzes with a text from Celina, letting you know she's downstairs. You take a deep breath and grab your purse, heading out the door and locking it behind you.

You greet Celina as you slide in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt. A comfortable silence falls between you. You've never needed to keep up conversation with Celina just for it to not be awkward and you loved that about your relationship, especially in times like these where your brain is mush and you don't have any words.

"So how are you and Marcus getting along? You haven't updated me since your second date!" Celina asks when you hit a red light. And there it is. As much as you thought you could avoid it.

"Well..." You sigh.

You felt bad for not letting her in on what was going on and the war waging in your mind, but you'd rather suffer alone than take everyone down with you.

"Uh oh, what happened?" She could always see right through you. "Do I need to slash his tires?"

"No!" You chuckle at her tenacity. "No, Marcus is great; he's really sweet and the perfect gentleman. I never felt pressured to do anything with him."

"And that's...bad?" She squints her eyes at you.

"No, not at all. I mean he's...perfect..." You trail off, sadness traveling through your body now.

"So what's the problem?" She asks, paying attention to the road again when the light turns green.

"It's just..." You say softly, your voice barely a whisper. Celina gives you time to collect your thoughts, but once she realizes you won't continue your side of the conversation, she speaks.

"Is this about Aaron?" She glances over at you, your head now turned to face the window so she can't see the tears rolling down your face. Your silence did nothing but prove her assumption correct.

"Honey..." Her voice is thick with sympathy and she pauses while she thinks of what to say.

"I know what he did to you messed you up, and I hope he suffers the rest of his life and karma never stops kicking his ass, but you've come so far and you've healed so much since then. Don't you think it's time to give yourself a chance to love and let them love you? Especially if Marcus is the perfect guy you say he is?"

"I'm just scared Lina," you finally speak when you know your sobs won't take your voice away. "Aaron was nice in the beginning too."

"Yeah, but...you also married him straight out of high school; you were just a kid blinded by love. You don't have to rush with Marcus. Just give him a chance and give yourself a chance to see that there are good guys out there willing to treat you right." You go silent again as Celina pulls up to the bar and she parks into her usual spot and turns off the ignition.

"I think deep down you know that Marcus is one of the good ones, otherwise you wouldn't have gone out with him all those times."

"I do know he's a good guy, he's probably as best as they come, but..." You twiddle your thumbs in your lap, staring at them to avoid eye contact with your best friend.

"But...?" Celina coaxes.

"What if I'm not good enough for him?"

It's the first time you've said your insecurity out loud since it entered your mind and once the question fell from your lips, you covered your face with your hands to quietly cry into them. That was the true question nagging your brain; not whether Marcus was good enough for you, but the opposite. You took your time to heal from your ex husband's abuse and you made a lot of progress, but the one truth he made you believe that never fully left was you not being worthy of anyone else's love.

You tried dating following the years of your divorce, but there was never anyone that caught your attention or made you feel special. In the end, the couple of guys you dated were just flings, only hooking up with them to satisfy your own basic needs. But with Marcus, you feel as though he could be everything you're looking for, everything you need in your life, and yet you still can't let your heart open, fearful that one day he might look at you and confirm what you're already thinking. That you're just not good enough.

"What?" Celina asks incredulously. "Babe, where is this coming from?"

"His exes are super successful and powerful. What am I? I haven't done anything meaningful with my life." The cruel voices in your head take over and spill out of your mouth through tears.

"Hey, don't you dare say that shit ever again," Celina replies in a stern tone, making your heart race as if you were being yelled at by your mother and your tears halt.

"Don't you ever dare compare yourself to anyone else; you are a strong, confident woman, a bad ass bitch, and I doubt that Marcus cares about whether you're unemployed or a fucking NASA scientist. He knows what you do and he hasn't held it against you or tried to make you feel bad for it because he likes you, not what you do. You're being unfair to him."

You slink into your seat as you're scolded. Her harsh words of tough love wash through your mind, cancelling out the other voices. You know she's right; you even said so yourself one night you tried to snap yourself out of this spiral you were going down. Singing has always been your one passion and you love that you're able to do it for a living, even if it's only once a week for now. Singing is what helped you out of the pit your ex left you in. You love what you do and where you work and all the people that show up for you and support you.

You think about Marcus. He quickly became one of those people, coming to the bar every week right after work just to support you. Love is too strong a word for it right now, but it's definitely some sort of affection. You think about the success of his life. Becoming FBI is no easy feat and he definitely has a lot to be proud of himself for, so would he ever look down on you for your career or lack thereof?

"I'm just worried one day he'll think I'm not good enough and it'll prove Aaron right," you say as your tears pick back up into sobs.

"Sweetie," Celina sighs, letting her frustration dissolve and her tone goes soft again. She rubs your shoulder with her hand, comforting you until your crying quiets down.

"You holding on to that belief is what's keeping Aaron tied to your ankles. Anytime you pass the opportunity for love because of that, you're letting him win."

Your tears stop and you sniffle as you look up at her. Leave it to Celina to make you see it in a new light. You nod your understanding and she gives you a soft smile.

"Are you okay? You don't have to sing tonight, we can just do some instrumentals."

"It's already instrumental night; I can't leave you up there all by yourself," you both chuckle. "I want to sing. I don't want him to take that away from me again," you say, not wanting to say your ex's name.

"That's my girl," Celina says proudly, a softness lingering in her eyes. "Let's get you in there and you can wash your face in the restroom."

You both exit the car and she grabs her guitar case from the backseat and once you meet up in front of the bar, Celina pulls you into a hug and it deflates your lungs with how tight she squeezes you. You thank her and head inside the bar, making a beeline to the restroom while Celina takes your purse to the stage. You splash your face with cold water, the shocking sensation relaxing your nerves and you take a deep breath as you replay Celina's words in your head. She's right.

You look in the mirror at your bloodshot eyes and puffy face. Great. You're slightly ashamed of the self doubt you let take control. You wish Celina's pep talk was enough to snap you out of it, for the most part it did, but it only temporarily got filed away in the back of your mind. Eventually, it'll disappear completely, but for now you'll just try to keep your chin up and move on. You also know you need to apologize to Marcus. Your eyes water when the guilt of how you've treated him swirls in your brain, but you fight the tears off and you take another deep breath before leaving the bathroom.

You walk along the bar top, not many people are sitting there, but one man catches your eye. He looks familiar... As you step closer and he comes into view, your heart races when you realize it's Marcus, now with a fresh haircut and clean-shaven face. He turns his head in your direction when he hears your steps approaching and smiles brightly. Your breath is snatched right from your lungs, both at his handsome, bare face, the dimple in his cheek even more visible, and also from nervousness. He's here. He's right fucking here. What do I say?

"You shaved," you divulge and he laughs. God, how I missed that sound.

"I did."

You stand there awkwardly, knowing and not knowing what to say at the same time. You want to hug him, but he'll probably just push you away. You want to apologize, but he'll probably just laugh in your face. You want to say you were being stupid and he'll probably agree.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while." No shit, you tried to cut him out. You mentally curse yourself at how dumb you sound.

"We caught the guy that stole that Bauer painting. Turns out he was behind a lot of other thefts we were after. I was rushed to Australia and had to stay there the past couple of weeks. I tried to call to let you know, but I didn't get through to you and my phone plan doesn't cover international calls," he shakes his head and you smile slightly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking into your red, puffy eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," you say as you smile. He knows you're not, but you obviously don't want to talk about it and this isn't the place for him to persuade you to try.

"Well... How are you feeling?"

"What do you mean?" You ask, befuddled by his question.

"The last couple of times I came to your show, you said you weren't feeling well. Plus we haven’t really talked in a while. You must have been pretty sick," he chuckles softly.

Oh my god. Is this a trick question? He's onto you.

"Oh..." You look down. "About that-"

Celina calls you from the stage and you check your watch; it's time to start the show.

"Shoot, I gotta go," you look at Marcus wistfully; you wish you had taken up Celina's offer to not sing tonight, if only to stay and talk to Marcus.

"I just wanted to come and say hi; I can't stay long. Maybe for a couple of songs, but I have to get back to work to finish filling out some papers," Marcus frowns.

You nod understandingly and say goodbye hurriedly, not wanting to break open the dam of tears again when they're still so fresh. You feel Marcus’s eyes burning on your back as you walk away. He had to have known that you were trying to cut him off and that possibility eats at your conscience. You rush to the stage and sit in the stool next to Celina, taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face for the crowd. Marcus notices the effortless switch in your mood, knowing something is bothering you, but you hide it well from everyone else.

"Good evening everyone," you smile into the microphone as you greet the crowd. "It's just me and Celina tonight and we've got some acoustic songs to play for you. Hope you enjoy."

Celina plucks the strings of her guitar, easing into the intro of "More Than Words" by Extreme. You look at Marcus periodically as you sing; he watches you just as intently as always, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that the gears are turning in his head, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

You and Celina finish the song, waiting for the clapping to die down before she starts playing "Tears In Heaven" by Eric Clapton, followed by a slower version of "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls. Marcus feels the emotion you convey while you sing the lyrics, a little more than usual and he can sense these lyrics are coming from a place of grief.

Instead of watching you in amazement like usual, he lets the detective side of him read your tense body language and solemn face. He reads you like he would a criminal, trying to get some answers and crack the case. He feels sad as you sing these specific lyrics, voice thick with melancholy and on the verge of tears. Part of him is angry at the crowd; everyone is clearly oblivious to the pain you're revealing on stage, and he feels spiteful towards them for only caring about their own enjoyment.

He wonders if he should ask you about it, ask you if you need someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, but he doesn't want to overstep his boundaries. You hadn't been dating long and he knows you'll talk to him whenever you're ready, if you even wanted to talk to him at all anymore. He can see and feel the agony radiating off you as you sing and he just wants to take it all away, but he'll wait for you to tell him if that's what you need from him.

You look up when the song finishes and you see Marcus wave a sad goodbye to you from the bar top before walking out of the building. You feel your heart tug as he leaves, like you want to chase after him and just have him hold you. For his sake, you need to open up about everything and you need to let him go if that's what it takes for him to be happy.

You need to finish healing your heart and you know Marcus doesn't deserve to be held back because of your own hang ups. As much as you like him and wish he would wait for you, you can't expect him to, so you prepare yourself to let go, prepare to replace the bricks around your heart that Marcus tore down in the short time you were together.

The rest of the night goes smoothly until it's time to pack up and leave. You and Celina leave the bar, getting back in her car and she stays silent as she drives you home. It's like she knows the dilemma going on in your head and heart. You pull out your phone from your purse and compose a new text to Marcus.

Me: Can you come to my apartment when you're out of work?

Your body rushes with anxiety as you hit send. There's no going back now. The minutes feel like hours as you wait for a text back until, finally, your phone vibrates with a reply from him.

Marcus Pike: It might be a while, I don't want to keep you waiting late :/

Me: That's okay. I won't be able to sleep tonight until I talk to you

Marcus Pike: If you're sure then okay :) I'll be there as soon as I can

You put your phone back in your purse and mentally prepare yourself for either direction this conversation with Marcus could go. You haven't opened up to anyone besides Celina about your ex, so you're nervous to say the least. Maybe you'll feel a sense of relief after you let it all out, but either way, your relationship with Marcus will never be the same after tonight. The rational part of you says he won't judge you. Of course he wouldn't, he's a sweetheart. But the anxious part of you says he'll hate you forever. You really hope not.

Celina pulls up to your building and gives you a tight hug, slightly awkward from how you're both sitting in the car, but warm nonetheless. She smiles at you and tells you to call her if you need her and you exit the car, rushing up the stairs and entering your apartment. You decide to put your anxiety to good use and clean your apartment before Marcus shows up; what good would it do to just sit there chewing your nails?

You're not sure exactly how much time passes as you rush through cleaning the living room and dining room, just getting halfway through the kitchen when there's a light knock at your door. Your heart stops and your legs automatically propel you forward to the door, looking through the peephole and seeing Marcus standing there with his hands in his pockets. You take a deep breath and open the door.

"Hi Dulce," he says softly with a smile.

"Hi," you reply and step to the side, opening the door wider. "Uh, please come in."

"Thank you," he says as he steps inside and stands by your couch. You shut the door and take a couple of steps forward, standing across from him.

"Look, I need to apologize to you. I... I was never sick. I was avoiding you." Your heart drops when you see his eyes fall.

"I had a feeling," he replies in a low voice. He knew you were avoiding him, but to hear it out loud still hurt.

"But... Why?" He asks sadly.

"I thought I was doing you a favor by...cutting you out."

"What? How is that doing me a favor?" He's more curious than upset, but the frustration and pain are apparent in his voice just the same.

"I'm so sorry. I owe you an explanation," you say as you twiddle your thumbs, averting your eyes from his to keep your composure. Marcus stays quiet for a moment; all you can hear is his deep breathing, like he's trying to calm his own mind.

He thinks back on the last time you hung out at your apartment and the gravity of what he opened up to you about. I knew I freaked her out. He's angry with himself, thinking that he managed to chase another one away, only this one hurts more. He really thought there was something there between you two. But he can't be upset if this is how you feel. He'll just have to pick up the pieces and start again.

"You don't owe me anything," Marcus finally replies, furrowing his brows. He's still being so kind and stoic, even when you don't deserve it.

"I do though because... I really like you. And the times we went out were great." Your fingernail catches on a loose piece of skin on your cuticle and you direct your attention to it, picking the skin raw as you speak.

"The truth is I got intimidated. And insecure," you continue.

"About what?" He asks as he crosses his arms.

You recognize the defensive action and it makes you curl in on yourself. You try to push your anxiety out of your head; you know you need to be honest with him now, for his and your sake.

"Okay... I guess it just freaked me out knowing that your ex wife is a psychologist and your ex fiance is also an agent. It made me reflect badly on myself and I... I lost my confidence. I mean, I work at a library and I sing on the side. I don't even have a car." You shrug your shoulders and bite the skin off your lip as you hang your head. Marcus's eyes change from confused to sad again, for you this time.

"That's what you're worried about?" I was wrong, he thinks. He frowns and uncrosses his arms, letting them hang at his sides. "I don't care about any of that, I only care about you and the way you make me feel."

"That's the other thing too," you look up at him through your lashes. "I got freaked out about my feelings for you growing so fast and... Basically it all stems from my ex husband. He... He-"

"Dulce, we don't have to talk about it," Marcus says softly when he realizes where this conversation is heading.

You never said anything about your ex husband to him and he took that as a sign that it didn't end amicably, so he never asked. But seeing you in pain tonight, both while you sang and also while in front of him now, he knows whatever it is won't be pleasant. You exhale your breath through your mouth and look at him straight in his solemn eyes. It's time.

Chapter 5.5 (ONLY IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE)

Chapter Four | Chapter Six

The Singer Masterlist

TAG LIST:

@hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @giselatropicana @sarahjkl82-blog @barbossa2319

#marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

Text

Stay With Me (Pt. 04 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (03)

Next part (05) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

Running Away

Twenty-one days. That's how long you've been in Alexandria. The days have fallen into a routine, slow, and filled with care. Daryl has been sleeping with you, and in the mornings you have your breakfast on the porch when it's sunny. Then, Carol helps you take a bath, changes the dressings of your wounds, and you're back in bed. You're speaking more with Carol, what makes her happy, you think. The wounds are still a problem. It still hurts a lot, but not as bad as before. And you're starting to get tired of staying in bed all day.

So today, after having your dressings changed and when Carol leaves, you stand up, eyes tightly closed to hold back the pain. Using the nightstand to support some of your weight, you move to the wall, using it to help you limp towards the door.

“Huh?” You hear a mumble.

“You're... Clean?” Carol asks, and you wonder what that's about. “You're clean.”

“I showered. What's the big deal?”

“Yes, you did... You showered yesterday too. And the day before...” As you reach the door frame, you try to understand what's this odd conversation between the two of them. “Actually, you've been showering daily for quite a while now. I wonder why–” She stops talking when you step outside, her eyes finding you.

Immediately, Daryl turns around, making his way over you. His eyes run through your body and you don't quite understand why he's cheeks are getting red. “What are ya doin’ up?” The moment he's close enough, you let go of the wall and hold on to him instead.

But Daryl acts weird, as if he didn't want to touch you. It makes you feel akward since you grew used to his touch. “What?” You ask, pulling away just enough to look down at your body, trying to see if there's anything in you that might have caused this reaction.

“Where are the rest of yer clothes?” He asks, trying to push you back into the room.

“This is what I usually wear.” Shrugging your shoulders, you take in the tank top and one of the lycra shorts Carol got you. It reaches about two inches above your wound, which means it barely covers your thighs. It never bothered you. Well, only when it's cold. “What's wrong with it?”

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He gives Carol an odd look before holding you again, his hands barely touching your sides. “Let's get ya back to bed.”

“No. I wanna go downstairs. I'm tired of being in the room.” You beg him, trying to resist as he pushes you back. “Please?”

“Put on somethin’ to cover up yer... Yer body. In case someone comes in.”

“I'll grab the blanket.” When you're about to move to get it, Daryl's moves first, taking the blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders, closing it on the front. He then picks you up, as he usually does to move you around, carrying you downstairs and carefully laying you down on the couch.

You quickly move into a sitting position as he settles down beside you. “Ya want anythin’?”

“I'm thirsty.” You don't want to keep asking people to get things. You want to go there and get them yourself.

“I'll get you some water,” Carol answers before Daryl can stand up.

She soon comes with your glass, and you drink half of it before handing over to Daryl, who puts it on the coffee table. Then, you move the blanket around, so it won't be a barrier as you lean on Daryl. But he flinches, seemingly uncomfortable. The way he moves away hurts you a little, and you sit up straight again, looking at him. “What is it, Daryl?” You ask, suddenly feeling odd, pulling the blanket so it'll cover your shoulders. “I just took a bath, I'm not dirty.” Your mind tries to find any other reason for Daryl to act like this.

“I know. Ya smell good, I jus’...” He moves a little, clearly nervous. “Yer using next to nothin’ and I don't wanna make ya feel uncomfortable.”

“I'm not feeling uncomfortable.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to understand what's the difference. You've been using this style of clothing since you got here. Denise told you not to wear anything that might squeeze the wound on your thigh, and Daryl has been sleeping on the same bed as you. Why is it different now? Then it clicks. He never really knew what was under the blankets you always have around you in bed. But you don't feel uncomfortable, not around Daryl. “I'm fine, truly.”

“Are ya?” He looks down at you after avoiding your gaze for a while. You wonder why he seems so embarrassed.

“Yeah.” Muttering, you give a quick glance at the kitchen, to make sure Carol isn't looking. Sometimes, she stands there, as if studying your interactions with Daryl, you're not sure why. You have the suspicion that she's actually studying his interaction with you. But she's not on your sight, probably at the sink or at the countertop making lunch. Turning your gaze at Daryl, you shrug your shoulders. “Can I?”

He breathes in deeply, and you see something snap in his eyes, like he's giving up trying to fight something. “C'mere, babygirl.”

You can't control the smile that comes to your lips as you lean on him again, carefully moving your legs up to the couch. “Daryl?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you call me babygirl?” You decide to ask, not because you don't like it, just because you really want to know.

He moves a little, restless again. There are a lot of things you still don't understand about Daryl, but you try to. “ ‘Cause yer young. And a girl.”

Doesn't make much sense, and it sounds like he just said the most obvious thing. “I'm not that young, Dixon.” It's weird how, all of a sudden, you don't want Daryl to see you as a kid. He does have to look after you, but it's just because your body is still broken... But you're getting better every day, and soon enough you'll be able to function like a normal person.

“Yer young compared to me.”

“You're not that old.”

“I am compared to ya.” He speaks fast as if he wants to shake this thought away.

Of the many things that have gone through your head since you spotted Daryl's blue eyes among the dead, age wasn't one of them. It's not like you haven't noticed the man is some, well, several years older than you, probably around two decades, but it was never important. You never thought this matter deserved attention. It doesn't change anything. “Uhm...” You mumble, an arm moving to hug his midsection.

“Shouldn't call ya that anyway.” He mutters, his chest vibrating under your head.

“I like it. I really do.” Daryl only calls you that when nobody else is around. When Carol or Denise are here, he always uses your name. And you like it. It's like a private thing, a secret.

Daryl only grunts in response, which makes you giggle. You both fall into a comfortable silence until Carol comes to the living room, sitting on the coffee and getting your attention.

“(Y/N), Maggie and Glenn got back from a run yesterday. They brought a wheelchair and I was thinking that maybe you could use it to take a tour around the neighborhood.” She says, glancing at Daryl and then at you. Walking it's still hard for your leg, and Denise still doesn't think you should try to. The stitches ripped twice after the first incident, and you're being extra careful now.

“I don't know.” The thought of going out there, where people will see you... You haven't stopped to think about it. Actually, you've been more comfortable with being inside the house.

“I'll be with ya. If ya feel like yer ready for it.” Daryl says, and it gives you just a little bit of courage.

“Do you think I should?”

“The group wants to meet you.” Carol answers. “They're curious about the girl Daryl cuddles with.” Her comment makes Daryl swift in his seat again, letting out a displeased grunt. “You will like them when you give it a chance. There's also Judith. That one will steal your heart in half a second.”

“Who's Judith?” You ask her.

“Rick's daughter,” Daryl says. “Lil’ Ass Kicker, three years of drivin’ Rick insane.”

“You have kids here?” You haven't seen kids since the world broke. Part of you thought it was better that way. Bringing a kid into the world as it is now is crazy. But here... Alexandria seems like a safe place. It seems like a good place to be if you want kids.

“A few, yes.” Carol states. “So? Can I have Maggie bring the wheelchair?”

Lifting your head a little, you give Daryl a glance. “It's yer call to make. Ya wanna go or not?”

“Only if I can meet Judith.”

“Alright then.” Carol stands up, clearly happy. “I'll get the chair and you put some clothes on because if you go out like that Daryl will certainly have a heart attack.”

“I would never go out like that.” You mutter, wondering what's the big deal with your clothes.

So you put on these loose sweatpants and a long-sleeved light blue shirt since the wind coming from your window is a bit cold. You're anxious when Daryl puts you in the chair, already outside. You can't help but look at the sides, suddenly aware of every human being here who's not Daryl.

“Ready?” He asks, and you almost say no. But you force yourself to nod, and he starts pushing the wheelchair.

You're shaking a little, hands clenched into fists. Maybe this was a bad idea, and everything you want is to get back to your bedroom, where nobody knows about your existence, where there's just you and Daryl and nothing else. People have been hurting you for too long, you don't think you can deal with them anymore.

“Ya ok down there?” Daryl's voice snaps you out, and you nod again. “Let's meet Maggie. She's the one who found ya this chair.” Daryl takes you near the walls that surround the city, tall and constantly under watch. He calls and the woman some feet away turns around. She's been talking to a small group of people, who also turn to look at you.

“Daryl.” She greets, leaving the others and walking over you. “And I believe this is (Y/N). I'm Maggie.” She reaches out her hand and you freeze, just looking at it. This is ridiculous. You shouldn't be out here. “Oh, it's alright.” Maggie retrieves her hand, giving you a small smile. “I've heard you've been through some tough times. I just hope you'll feel better now that you're here.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you nod, trying to force some words out. “T-thanks for the chair.” You push out, hoping it'll be enough.

“No need to thank me. I just thought it would help you start getting to know the community.”

“Maggie!” Someone calls, and she turns on her heels to check it out.

“That one over there, in the blue T-shirt is Gleen, my husband.” She says. “Nice guy, judging by the fact I'm married to him.” She looks at you again. “Well, I gotta go. I hope this is not the last time I'll see you, (Y/N). Have a nice day.” With that, she waves and goes back to where she was as Daryl pushes you away, taking a different turn.

“She's nice.” You tell Daryl when you're far enough not to be heard.

“She is. You'll like her if ya give her the chance.”

You mutter in response, bouncing your leg a little. This place is amazing. Beautiful. It reminds you of simpler times when the dead used to remain that way. But the wall around you is a constant reminder of the dangers that must be kept outside.

Daryl introduces you to some people. You're happy you managed to say ‘hi’ and shake some hands, despite flinching away from their touch too quickly. He's very patient, pushing your around the town, using the least crowded streets. But half an hour later you're getting too restless, excited to go back home.

“I think I want to go back now.” You say when you see two people walking your way.

“What about Judith?”

“Oh...” You completely forgot about her. “Can we go now? Then back home.”

“Judith is Rick's daughter. Which means he'll probably be there.” Daryl warns you, changing direction. “Ya think ya can handle that?”

“Then we should just go back home.” You suddenly don't want to do it anymore. It's way too much for today.

“Listen.” Daryl stops, walking around the chair and crouching before you. “Ya trust me, don't ya?”

“I thought we reached this point where you don't have to ask me that because you know the answer.” Of course you trust Daryl. You'd put your life in his hands without thinking twice. You've already done that, actually.

“I know Rick reminds ya of one of those assholes, but he ain't like them. He's been with us for years. I trust him and so can ya.” One of his hands comes to touch your knee, and it makes you relax a little. “But I'll take ya back if that's what ya need. Not gonna push ya.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod, looking down. “Can't you... Can't you bring her to the house?” You're not ready, not yet. “I'd feel better there. Even if–Even if I have to meet this Rick.”

“Of course, baby–” Daryl clears his throat, shaking his head.

What's wrong with him today? “Babygirl.” You decide to finish it for him, reaching out your hand to touch his face. But Daryl stands up abruptly the moment your fingers connect with his cheek.

“Let's go.” He's soon moving you again, not saying anything else.

It takes five minutes or so until you're back home, feeling relieved to have these walls around you again. Daryl leaves you in the living room with Carol as he goes to get Judith. He takes a while, but you hear Judith before Daryl swings the door open.

“See that lady over there?” He says to the beautiful toddler in his arms. It's such a sight, seeing Daryl holding Judith. “She's dying to meet ya.” As he speaks, Judith's eyes find you and she smiles.

“Hi!” She mumbles, waving a tiny hand at you.

You didn't think you'd ever see a kid again. “Hi, Judith.” Daryl brings her to the couch, putting her down beside you. “How are you, little ass-kicker?”

“You goin to play with me?” She happily asks, reaching out her hand, which you hold, giving a little shake.

“Sure.” You can't help but smile. A smile that doesn't fades. This child is the exact opposite of everything you suffered. She's innocent, kind, and pure. “There's nothing here to play with.”

“Rick's bringin’ some–” He's cut off by a knock on the door. “That's him. ‘M gonna let him come in, is that alright?”

Holding your breath, you nod. As Daryl goes to open the door, you keep looking at Judith, the smile disappearing. “(Y/N),” Daryl calls as you see the two men moving to the living room. “This is Rick, Judith's father.”

“Hi, daddy,” Judith exclaims.

Slowly, you raise your eyes, sinking a little into the couch, as if it could put more distance between you and that man. “Hi.” You whisper, not sure if he can hear you, so you say it again. “H-hi. I'm (Y/N).”

“It's nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Rick says, exchanging a glance with Daryl. “I brought these blocks Judith likes.” He slowly steps forward, and you finally notice the box he's holding. He leaves it on the couch between you and his daughter before stepping back. “And I want to apologize for our first meeting. I didn't know... Well, I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.” The words are still getting caught in your throat. Rick does look like that man, but he isn't him. The beard is pretty much the same, but the eyes are different. More kind. But then again, some of them did seemed to be kind in the beginning. It didn't last long though.

Judith opens the box and starts taking all the colorful blocks out, throwing the empty box on the floor.

It's a weird feeling to do this. Playing with a kid, building houses and castles, imagining people living in them. The rest of the world goes away for a while, and you're surprised by the smiles that keep finding their way to your lips. Every time Judith says or does something, you can't help but be mesmerized. It makes you think that maybe, just maybe, sometime from now, you could have a kid of your own. You always wanted to be a mother, before the world came crashing down, but you haven't given it much thought about it after. It was useless anyway. There wasn't a place like this, safe, where you could fancy such possibilities...

Your eyes suddenly find Daryl, seated on the kitchen table talking to Rick. In the back of your mind, you wonder if Daryl ever thought about having kids too. He does seem to like Judith, and she likes him too. Like he's being called, he looks straight at you, and you sustain his stare for a while before Judith claims your attention.

Shaking your head lightly to push these thoughts away, something else comes. The way Daryl suddenly started acting weird. Earlier today on the couch, and when you touched his face. It doesn't matter how hard you try to understand him, you can't. You need to talk to him, to ask what's wrong.

Judith stays with you all day, only to be taken by her brother Carl when the night has already fallen. So you have dinner before going back upstairs, fixing the blankets around you, and waiting for Daryl. But after an hour, you wonder if he'll even come.

So you push all the blankets away, ignoring the cold that quickly creeps over your skin. By the time you reach the hall, you realize you don't know where Daryl's room is. Why didn't he come? He always does, you don't have to ask. Did he forget you? Is he mad or something? Using the walls to help you walk, you move down the hall, a low groan leaving your lips when a sharp pain spreads through your torso.

“What are ya doin’?” His voice comes from behind, so you stop, leaning against the wall. Daryl reaches you a couple of seconds later, and you're quick to notice how he holds both your arms, keeping a distance in between you. “Come. I'll help ya get back.”

“I'm alright.” You mutter as he easily picks you up again, carrying you back to bed.

“Ya still need to be careful.” He simply says, standing back up once you're comfortably lying down.

“Daryl, I need to talk to you.” Sitting back up, you decide to just say it, put the cards on the table.

“Ya need anythin’? I can get ya–”

“No, I... I just need to understand what's going on.” You didn't want to interrupt him, but you get the feeling he's trying to run from the conversation. “From this morning you've been acting weird, like... Like you're suddenly trying to avoid me...”

“Ain't tryin’ to avoid ya.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, looking down.

“Yes, you are. Don't you...” Running a hand through your hair, you try to come up with the right words to describe something you don't know how to. “Don't you like it when I touch you? Don't you–”

“I'm goin’ on a run with Rick.” He bursts out, not allowing you to finish. “I'll be leavin’ tomorrow mornin’ an’ it'll take four or five days.”

He sounds mad, angry even... He told you he usually goes on runs, but he hasn't left since you got here. You never thought about this, having to deal with Daryl being... Somewhere else. “Daryl, why–”

“I gotta get my stuff ready.” He then turns around and walks away. “Have a good night.”

And he's gone. He's gone and the tears immediately start rolling down. You're lost, disoriented. A different pain makes pressure in your chest, crushing you, pushing you back into the bed. Something happened. You must have done something, even though you don't know what it was. Covering your mouth with one hand to hold the sobs that come, you wonder how are you supposed to do this.

How are you supposed to endure the night? How are you supposed to be without him? You're not ready yet. What if he doesn't come back? What if he gets hurt? What if he got tired of taking care of you day after day? What if he doesn't want you? Your touch, your hugs, you.

He's tired of you. This fragile, broken thing you are. He saved you, yes, but it doesn't mean he cares for you. Maybe you misread things, and your feelings blinded you. And maybe he doesn't feel anything for you. Only pity.

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