#i love daryl and he supports my deicions ok

[kinsbin]

I Cut My Hair [Xena/Daryl]

Title: I Cut My Hair Ship: Love and Zombes [Xena/Daryl Dixon] Word Count: 1500 Warnings: Angst, Gore mention

Summary: After Glenn’s death and Negan’s rise, Xena feels lost. She needs to start new. She needs to be something else. She hopes a pair of clippers she finds in her bathroom can help that.

A/N: I wrote a fic about how my TWD insert cuts her hair and her emotions behind it! AKA season 7 Xena has a shaved head now and this is whyyyyyy

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Drip… Drip…. Drip…

The echo of the faucet spitting down on the porcelain of the sink was a dramatic thrum against the dead quiet of the entire house. Daryl had gone out. He had gone out a lot lately, not that she could really blame him. She couldn’t blame any of them after the events of Negan. After what happened and what they had all witnessed. After what she witnessed.

Xena’s heart clenched when she thought about it. Glenn’s head fresh on the ground, splattered into various pieces and beaten to the point where she couldn’t tell just what parts where what. The smell of blood, sweat, and fire and the sound of screaming. The sound of mostly Maggie’s screaming, echoing dangerously loud and close to her ear even as it rang out against the high-pitched mechanical snarl of terror hidden beneath her veins. Not even Daryl’s grip, hard and worried on her wrist, could remove that pitched screech that accompanied the scent of gore and-

Xena slammed her hands down on the sink, jostling the material for a moment. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell and rip something apart. Rip herself apart. For not doing anything and for being so stupid as to let Glenn go with them. To let any of this happen in any remote capacity even though she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t her fault. That nothing that happened could have been stopped after their decisions.

Tears wormed their way out of her eyes and down her cheeks as she sobbed, looking at herself crying in the mirror with a sense of disgust at the being returning her gaze. God, she realized with a gross sense of terror, her hair was red, wasn’t it? Despite the lack of hair dye in the apocalypse she had kept it that same ruby shade somehow. It had remained a glossy and colorful purple-ish auburn throughout her stay with the group and it was only by some miracle it hadn’t faded yet. She would have been proud of that at some point, she was sure.

Now she just saw the color of blood.

She didn’t stop herself before she reached around the cabinets of the sink, scrambling desperately to find the pair of clippers she knew were somewhere within them. Though neither she and Daryl put much conscious attempts into their grooming of facial hair or otherwise, they had been grabbed haphazardly on a run at some point and left with them out of chance.

She held the razor up, the metallic blade glistening in the light as her breaths grew ragged. Tears blinded her now as she cursed, shoving the plug into the outlet nearby and turning on the machine. It whirred to life, violently gnashing its blades together as she watched it for a moment longer before the hesitation left her and rage replaced it.

Rage that mixed with determination as she slid the clippers along her scalp, feeling her head lighten as it removed chunk after chunk of thick hair. She watched strands fall from her head to the ground like pieces of crimson snow, bright and vivid against the white tiles below them. Her shaking hands made it hard to keep the blade steady but it didn’t stop her as she ran the thing over her entire head. As she removed the hair that she suddenly found weighed far too much. Each stroke made her feel lighter. Made her feel at ease.

Made her free.

She all but slammed the clippers down onto the sink, the echo of metal hitting porcelain a dangerous screech as she screamed with it, tears falling faster now as she let out the most raw and intense yell she could manage. It devolved into sobs for a moment as she hiccuped, pushing herself up and running her hand along her scalp. As she tried to regain her composure for a moment.

Her scalp felt so rough. Still littered with maybe half an inch or a quarter or so of hair, it felt similar to how a dog’s fur would. Rough and different and new upon her body as she stared at herself, red faced and shorn, in the mirror. Her glasses were fogging up with tears. The single eye that still produced the wet moisture dribbled while the other was reddening from what tears could push through the scarred over tear ducts.

Xena let herself stay like that for perhaps far too long. Until the tears stopped and she was able to breathe again. Until she was able to pick up the clippers without shaking and put them away again, hiding them up behind the sink as she stood up and looked at her body, brushing bits of her own hair off of her shoulders and the front of her shirt as she clipped the missed pieces of long hair with scissors, sometimes even just pulling out the strands with a wince.

She looked… different that was for certain.

She kind of liked it.

The door to the front of the house opened, Daryl’s voice announcing his presence somewhat muffled by the second story separation, but she didn’t mind. She knew it would be him anyways. Taking a deep, shaky breath Xena brushed herself off one last time and exited the bathroom, wiping her tears away and rubbing her head one last time for good luck before heading down the stairs.

The air was cold on her tank top and boxer clad body, but more so against her scalp. She hadn’t ever felt the wind brush through her head before like that, a new and foreign feeling that made her startled as she quietly watched from the doorway as Daryl unpacked his items from the recent outing he had gone. He did so more violently than usual, and she knew why. Half of whatever he got would go to HIM. Half of whatever they fought for would be given to a man who did nothing but kill and intimidate.

God, it pissed her off.

She bit her lip, trying to push away the thought before Daryl finally faced her. His eyes widened at the sight of her head, gaze fixated on the bareness of the scalp offered before him. The silence was a heavy and thoughtful one, a pause to find words as he stared her down.

“Fuck, Red.” He finally whispered. Xena laughed and averted her eyes, rubbing the back of her shorn neck with a sheepish and exhausted smile.

“I… uh… I wanted to change things up, ‘s all.” She managed out, her throat raw from the tears she had shed.

“Yeah, that’s one hell of a way.” Daryl scoffed softly, making Xena’s brow furrowed as she averted her eyes. Rage was still inside of her, her mood testy because of it and Daryl could sense that now. Her body language was rougher than it usually was, the harshness to her edges making his heart hurt as he remembered her back when they had first met.

Soft. Loud. Funny. Different than it is now.

He supposed they both were different now, though.

“Hey,” He murmured and began to reach out, touching her hand and bringing it into his. Xena allowed it, her gaze following their hands and then finally looking up at him and, oh, the sadness in her eyes hurt him. They mirrored in his blue pools and it made her stomach flip to see so much of himself inside of her. As if they had joined together to be one unit. A perfect entity. A beautiful thing that was never going to be separated as much as they could help it.

Xena wondered if this was what a ‘soulmate’ was.

“It uh… It looks good,” Daryl managed out, blush red on his skin, “Hell, anything you do looks good on ya, so don’t be all embarrassed over it. ‘S practical too so-”

She leaned forward and hugged him, dragging his body close to hers and holding him there as she laughed. Tears welled and spilled again and she let them, crying in front of Daryl was always easy after all. He waited for a moment, looking down at the girl who had grabbed him with surprise, before he hugged her back. A hand went up to rub at the newly shorn head and, he had to admit, the feeling was nice. It was a comfort even as he let her cry beneath him, holding her close. Holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

Nowadays, in this world, she was.

“Guess I can’t call ya Red anymore, huh?” He joked.

“I don’t know,” Xena smiled into him as she sighed, “Might find some hair dye in the next town over… What, don’t like my natural hair color?”

“‘Course I do,” He returned, “Ya just look like even more of a squirrel, though.”

“Yeah? You look like a hobo.” She returned, her hands cradling his cheeks and rubbing her thumbs along his scruffy jawline. Daryl chuckled with her, their eyes meeting for a moment before they leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a warm and emotional kiss. His lips were so chapped compared to hers. His body enveloped her, his hands finding the back of her own and squeezing gently.

At least they still had each other. At least they were all they had left.