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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
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*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the delay, due to loss of internet! Thank you maya for the lovely review :D x *

Daryl was leaving, he was going to find Merle and Michonne and Isabelle wasn’t going to let him leave on his own this time. She knew full well he could handle himself but she wanted to make damn sure he came home, she still didn’t trust Rick not to throw her out on a whim. Daryl watched her suspiciously as she stepped up to his motorcycle.

“I need to practice, I need to get back into the real world, not hiding around here,” Isabelle pointed out calmly.

For a moment he looked as if he was going to refuse her completely before nodding his head curtly. Isabelle dropped into the seat behind him, Rick handing her another pistol and Beth tossing her leather jacket to her. Silently she pulled it on, feeling the weight of another clip of bullets and her knife in the pocket. She exchanged a look with Beth and smiled reassuringly that they would both return or at least that Daryl would. The motorcycle pulled away quickly, racing towards the meeting place.

Isabelle watched the blurring forest around them quietly, her arms around Daryl’s waist, not caring that he had gone tense at her touch. The occasional walker snapped at the noise and stumbled onto the road after they’d passed. Trudging aimlessly after them, dead eyes boring into her back. Slowly they pulled into the meeting area and Daryl parked the motorcycle. Isabelle stepped free, feeling strange outside the safe walls of the prison and back in the wilds. Last time she’d been out here with her horse, barely alive. The chill of the pistol against her spine was almost a comfort, she wasn’t useless any more.

Her eyes took in the scene of death and walkers loping carelessly towards them and her hand trailed to the hilt of her dagger, the smooth leather hilt a small comfort. Daryl whistled quietly for her to follow him and he grunted for her to stay close. She abided by his wishes, pulling the gun and dagger free as they walked further into the buildings. He seemed determined to avoid the walkers for the minute, more concerned with finding Merle and Michonne. Silently he motioned for her to stay put and again she followed his instruction. Pressing her back to one of the buildings she stayed and waited for his return, she constantly checked her surroundings, prepared to shout a warning or take action at a seconds notice. The sounds of a struggle reached her ears with a shout of ‘stay back’ in Daryl’s choked voice. It didn’t sound right, it sounded strained, not physically but emotionally overwrought.

Torn between helping and doing as he said Isabelle swayed on the spot before the decision was made for her as a walker lunged at her through the window she hadn’t realised was behind her. She twisted in its grasp and sank the dagger into its skull without hesitation and watched it go limp. It surprised her that it took more force to pull the weapon free again than it had to plunge it through the bone. A second approached and she stabbed that one between the eyes pushing it away angrily before retrieving her dagger again only for a third to approach, drawn by the sounds of the skirmish. Isabelle swallowed nervously and stayed crouched, this one was bigger than the last two. Not only did it tower over her in height, it was broader than a barrel.

Carefully she swayed her weight between her feet as Daryl had done before when he had been dodging her pathetic attempts at punches. Warily she let it come closer, waiting for it to get close enough for her to dodge around it. There was no time to be afraid as it stumbled closer, fear would be deaths calling card and it would take her without question or care. She sank lower, waiting for the first sign of it going to lunge. Her plan was foiled by another snarling walker stumbling towards her from the right and she ducked out of its reach and stumbled to the right of them both. The larger one falling over its own feet as she sprinted to slam her shoulder into the smaller ones back, she sent it and herself flying. The dagger flew from her hand as she landed heavily and rolled, quickly she pulled the pistol free as she slid to a stop on her back and aimed.

Her hands were shaking, the adrenaline starting to fade, her first bullet missed. Taking a deeper breath she aimed again and this time found her mark in the larger walkers head. Pushing another bullet into the chamber she shot at the smaller one that was now grasping her leg and starting to pull her body towards snapping teeth. She kicked herself free and scrambled away before pulling the trigger, again the bullet missed but an arrow pierced its head instead as Daryl stepped up behind her. With a gasp she looked up at him, her eyes checking him over for bites before she saw the dried tears on his cheeks. His eyes were still unreadable, she didn’t know if the tears had fallen from sorrow or anger. Her eyes trailed past him to a corpse, its face smashed into pieces and she noted the absence of Merle and Michonne.

Daryl held her dagger out to her and stalked past to retrieve his arrow. He didn’t pause as he headed for the motorcycle and revved the engine into life. Isabelle sank into the seat behind him and wrapped her arms lightly about him again, he didn’t tense like last time and she pressed her cheek to his back. With one last glance back at the death scene they sped away, neither speaking for fear of their words destroying the peace that had settled between them.

It didn’t take long to return to the prison, Daryl staying on the motorcycle as Isabelle dismounted. She glanced back at him, but he was too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts to notice her as he leaned on the handlebars. Leaving him to it she stepped into the cool darkness of the night time cells and spotted Michonne. Beth was the first to approach her as she looked at the group, they were waiting for news of Daryl.

“Merle didn’t make it,” Isabelle whispered into the silence.

          Beth hugged her and slowly the group headed to their cells, deciding as one that they didn’t need to watch for Daryl to come back in. Slowly Isabelle made her way to her cell, Beth with her obviously wanting to talk in private. Carefully Isabelle dropped the curtain down to give them some privacy.

“Is he ok?” Beth whispered.

“I don’t know, I can’t read him. I would guess he’s pretty upset though, it was his brother after all,” Isabelle whispered back, slowly removing the weaponry from her person and placing it on the table by the door.

“What happened?” Beth queried.

“I don’t know, he asked me to wait. I was attacked by four walkers, I didn’t see anything and the next thing he was there and there was just this mashed up corpse behind him,” Isabelle decided against telling Beth she suspected he had been crying as she dropped to sit next to her on the bed.

“You need to pack up in the morning, Rick thinks the Governor’s going to come. We need to be ready to leave,” Beth informed her.

          Daryl appeared at the curtain and looked between them silently. Isabelle smiled at Beth and hugged her tenderly before watching the younger girl go. Slowly she felt there was a bond growing between them. The bond of two young girls, not made for this world but slowly rediscovering themselves.

Slowly Isabelle met Daryl’s eyes as she rose from his bed and started to climb the ladder. They were still unreadable. She heard him drop heavily into the bed as she settled into her own. The silence fell between them again, an awkwardness returning to the air. She wanted to say something, to offer some form of comfort but she fretted it would come across as either another attempt to seduce him or worse take advantage during his grief. She needed her own cell, perhaps this mini evacuation tomorrow would give her the opportunity to prove that she could be trusted on her own.

Her mind refused to quieten between the memory of the nightmare, the events that had passed and the palpable tension in the air she was doomed. She tossed and turned most of the night, drifting in and out of sleep as she contemplated if she would even be alive after tomorrow perhaps she should just tell him that she liked him. Isabelle snorted at her own thought. As if she liked him, he was rough, uncouth, honest, decent, selfless… ruggedly handsome. Grunting at her own thoughts she rolled onto her side. He was a hill-billy, just a red neck nobody, hardly her usual type of the greatest cultural sophisticates of society, the gorgeous and the rich, she doubted he even knew the difference between a butter knife and a fish knife.

The faintest glimmer of dawn came as a mild relief as she willingly gave up on sleep, pulling her bag towards her she piled in the few belongings, wrapping the pointe shoes bag inside a blanket, before dropping the rucksack down to the floor. Daryl had been awake most of the night too, she’d heard his breathing and he’d stayed too still. She hoped he hadn’t heard her grunts of disapproval and guessed at the context.

          Carefully she made her way down the ladder and picked the bag up, he watched her silently from the bed but she couldn’t meet his gaze. Isabelle made her way down to the entrance and placed her bag by the door. Others were already moving in the early morning, nervously placing their bags in the pile. By the time Rick arrived they were ready to load the cars up. Isabelle moved with them, falling into the easy pattern of the group as they moved everyone’s bags out. Food piled into the backseat of the car before they stood silently one last time together in the courtyard. Isabelle pulled her leather jacket closer, back in her old jeans and jumpers. Silently she watched the group around her, they hadn’t assigned her a job. She still wasn’t an accepted member, still just an outsider yet to prove herself. Daryl motioned for her to follow him as they all separated silently to await the Governor’s arrival. She was still under his supervision then, still on probation, he pressed the pistol back into her hands.

“You forgot this, might come in useful,” He led the way into the back passageways of the prison and she followed carefully wondering if it was their plan to lose her in the tombs instead.

“What am I to do?” Isabelle whispered, wanting some form of direction. Daryl paused and turned to look at her and she felt her cheeks colour, grateful of the darkness of the corridors although she suspected he still knew.

“You’re to watch my back and stay out of the way. Oh and try not to die,” He informed her coolly.

“Great, liking the plan of not dying. Have to say that’s the best one yet, it had never even crossed my mind,” Isabelle hissed at him and heard him chuckle.

          The attack on the prison was over as quickly as it had started, she hadn’t even seen an attacker. Flash grenades had driven them away from the tombs before they even got close to where she had hidden a way behind Daryl, watching the corridor they had travelled along in case anyone tried to come from behind their position. Silence echoed out briefly before Daryl risked giving chase, shouting for her to hurry up and keep up. Isabelle pounded her way through the tunnels after him, almost blinded when they burst into the open sunlit courtyard. Shielding her eyes she watched as the attacking group fled and felt hope rise brightly in her chest. They’d done it, this tiny dysfunctional group that had reluctantly taken her in had done the impossible and held the prison.

She stared at the people around her, the survivors of so many trials and she felt at home amongst them. The talk of taking a run on Woodbury chilled her jubilation instantly into almost nonexistence. They’d survived the attack, they’d proven they could hold the prison why were they so determined to end another group? Didn’t they realise how few humans there could be left? She moved to join Daryl on his motorcycle, she wanted to prove she was part of the group, finally useful but he pushed her away firmly.

“This ain’t a joy ride Belle,” He whispered not meeting her eyes.

“I want to help! I want to be part of this group, prove I’m useful,” Isabelle responded as calmly as possible.

“Help here, there’s loads of unpacking to do,” Daryl ordered just as calmly still not looking at her.

          Isabelle glared at him but his jaw was set and she’d seen that expression before. She wasn’t going to win. Slowly she nodded and backed away as he raced out of the courtyard with Rick and Michonne, the car and bike soon in the distance. She was back to being useless.

Beth called for her and they started to move the bags from the cars again. It took the day to get the prison back to the way it had been and night fell heavily with no sign of the others return. Isabelle felt the tension rise, everyone thinking the same. What if they didn’t return, the strongest of them had left. She glanced back at the few left behind. They could still survive she was sure but it would be harder. Weary she made her way to the bunk, helping Carl hold the slightly twisted main door as he bolted the lock. The cell was too empty, Daryl’s things still in his bag at the end of the bed. She made her way up to her bunk and settled down into the blankets, she was instantly restless.

          With a resounding sigh she dropped back down and raided Daryl’s rucksack. She pulled the blanket free and dropped instead onto his bed, the blanket pressed close to her chest. His smell was soothing, she felt safe when he was around even if his sheer presence caused her some consternation. She’d seen his selflessness, willingness to do good in the world, even his eyes with their shields and walls were of comfort. Sleep felt more likely but it still felt like forever before the darkness fell on her vision.
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Survival Isn't An Option