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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
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With a groan she released him slowly and moved herself away. She couldn’t meet his gaze as she brushed the old hay and straw from her clothing and began to strap her daggers and pistol back onto her thighs. Apologies ran through her head but she was growing weary of apologising for expressing herself. At least he hadn’t run away this time, colour rose to her cheeks as he stalked past her and left the barn. His own small arsenal already strapped to him. Her eyes followed him curiously, why didn’t he respond every time. Sometimes she could feel his energy charged with passion, other times he was colder than ice.

          Isabelle whistled for Chance, the mare jogging over and following them out in the field. Pulling her bow free Isabelle held it warily as she took in the surrounding environment. Her screams during the night had attracted a few walkers. She partially knocked an arrow and held it ready to be loosed, best not to use the pistol and draw more with the noise. Daryl glanced back at her, choosing not to say whatever was going through his mind and instead holding the gate open for her and Chance. Isabelle stepped into the outside world first and pulled her dagger free as a walker stumbled up to her. Silently she stabbed it in the head, the dagger coming free easily with one tug as the body fell at her feet. She was frustrated, sexually, emotionally, and the tension was running her nerves bare. How did people deal with these emotions?

          Again she was pushing the need to dance, the need to release and there was none to be had. Emotions were not her strong point, not anything she was used to processing and her heart was fluttering at the anxiety they caused. Sheathing her dagger she stalked ahead before realising she was still no tracker and she stopped as Daryl caught up, he looked annoyed. She wanted to snap at him, tell him to pull himself together and fuck her against a tree without care or thought, to just get whatever was holding him back and throw it aside.

“You want to hunt or do you want to say something?” He hissed at her.

“Hunt,” Isabelle snapped back without looking at him.

“Shame because I want to ask what the hell is wrong with you?” Daryl barked back catching her off guard.

“What do you mean what is wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” Isabelle shouted without meaning to. “I was in your lap, literally, all but begging you to take me and you didn’t even kiss me back…”

“So?” Daryl snapped back.

“So?! SO! I feel like an idiot. Do you want me or not? Because if you don’t then for god’s sake put me out of my misery and say and stop kissing me back sometimes. Believe or not I’ll actually stop physically harassing you if you want me to, I was just under the illusion you might have felt something for me too,” Isabelle shouted, ignoring Daryl’s motions for her to quieten down.

“Will you lower your voice, you’re going to draw them all here,” He hissed.

          Slowly Isabelle calmed herself and waited for his answer. With an exasperated grunt she stalked off when he just raised an eyebrow at her. She didn’t care they were supposed to be hunting and thundered through the forest not really looking for deer. Eventually Daryl caught up and grasped her arm. She shrugged him off and kept going, a twig snapped and she dropped to one knee on instinct, raising the bow and aiming the arrow in the direction of the noise. Daryl by her side in an instant as they both glared towards the sounds origin. Chance emerged, munching contently on a large mouthful of grass. Isabelle lowered her bow and glanced at Daryl.

“Will you slow down, first off we can’t hear if anything’s near us, secondly you’re going to scare the deer off and attract every walker around,” Daryl snapped.

          Isabelle nodded, her anger lost after the scare Chance had given her. She hadn’t intended to be so noisy. She dropped into line behind Daryl, now fully in hunter mode as they made their way through the morning forest. Her eyes scanned the horizon as he focused on the immediate vicinity. His fingers snapped to draw her attention and pointed to the faint print of deer in a dusty path. Isabelle nodded and drew her bow, knocking an arrow in preparation as Daryl prepped his crossbow. He motioned for her to follow him exactly and she did as she was told for once. A clearing ahead drew her attention and she tapped Daryl’s shoulder as she spotted the deer. It was now on its side and walkers were ripping into its belly. They shared a glance of disappointment before skirting around the clearing, Isabelle glanced backwards one last time and paused. The deer had a hole in its head and she grabbed Daryl’s jacket and pointed.

“We’re not alone,” She hissed.

“Keep your guard up,” Daryl whispered in response as they headed away from the clearing rapidly, Chance nervously keeping close at the scent of death and blood.

“The blood was fresh,” Isabelle felt for her dagger and grasped the hilt for comfort.

“I know, keep quiet,” Daryl snapped at her.

          Isabelle kept close, her eyes flickering nervously to every glint of a leaf, every bend of a blade of grass. More than once she butted into Daryl much to his annoyance. Movement caught her eye, too large a shadow to be just a breath of air twitching a branch. Her fingers tightened on her dagger as a man stepped through, she didn’t know if he’d seen them yet or not. Isabelle dropped to the floor and heard Chance nicker behind her. The man’s attention instantly went to the horse and he raised a pistol, her heart leapt into her mouth and she scrabbled for her own pistol. A hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her backwards as the pistol fired. Chance fell in a heap, her lifeless body barely ten feet away as Daryl pulled her behind a bush. She pulled at his hand and writhed against him as tears poured from her eyes.

          The sound of a dagger plunging into flesh broke her and she sobbed against his hand as he pulled her further back. Silence hung in the air but for the butchering of Chance, nothing to spare her the horrifying noise. Daryl was still dragging her steadily backwards, his hand over her mouth still until the squelch was far in the distance. They sat, her in-between his legs, her back against his chest as she bawled her eyes out, gasping pathetically as her heart broke over the loss. He held her silently, his fingers finally dropping from her mouth to wrap about her waist, his forehead resting against her shoulder as she struggled to control her sobs.

“We need to start heading back to the camp, we can’t get a deer back from this far out,” Daryl whispered, obviously still wary of the presence of the man.

          Slowly Isabelle nodded, brushing the tear stains from her face and ignoring the streaks of dirt now on her hands. Stumbling to her feet she offered a hand to Daryl to help him up and they made their way away from Chance’s grave. She glanced back one last time, half hoping the mare would reappear through the foliage like she always did. Instead she saw the blood stained man, his feral eyes watching her and she lost her control. Drawing her dagger she snarled and ran at him full pelt. She didn’t care if she killed him instantly or just wounded him she would make him suffer for stealing her horse. Daryl’s shout was lost on her as she ran forwards. Ducking a punch she sank the dagger into the strangers thigh and smacked a punch to his gut, he grunted in pain as she dodged sideways and drew her second dagger. Without thought she sank into the all too familiar ready position and waited for him to move. An arrow pierced his shoulder and she didn’t wait for a better opportunity as she slashed for his throat.

          Blood sprayed over her face and pain registered in her right arm as she instinctively raised it. The stranger had pulled the dagger from his thigh and slashed at her as she’d lunged for him. She pushed him backwards as his life’s blood spilled down his chest, as he stopped twitching she slammed the dagger into his skull. Only then did she realise what she had done and the dagger fell from her fingers as she looked at her bloodied arms and brushed the droplets over her cheeks. Silently she headed into the forest, Daryl’s hand on her arm not registering as she wandered on until he tugged her another way. The stream they had passed half an hour ago now in front of them as she dropped to her knees in the mud and splashed the chilled water onto her face and rubbed the stains from her skin.

          Without a word she stripped down to her underwear and washed her clothes until the water was stained crimson. She knew Daryl was watching her but she didn’t care. Wringing the water free she went to pull her tank top back on only for his hands to stop her. Gently he took the clothing from her and hung it over a branch that caught the suns slowly intensifying rays. Her eyes watched him emptily as she sank onto the grass and pulled her knees up to her chin. He knelt before her, concern poorly concealed in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Isabelle whispered.

          Daryl nodded and headed into the woods, apparently to resume some form of hunt. Isabelle stared at the sun as it rose to its peak at midday, slowly she was coming back to her senses and realised just how naked she was. Stumbling back onto her feet she pulled her clothes back on, just the leather jacket still damp. Deciding against moving in case Daryl couldn’t find her again she rested against the tree trunk and plunked at blades of grass absently. Even after all this time and all this training she still went catatonic whenever she was presented with dealing death. For a moment she wondered if she would ever want it to get easier, could life become so easy to issue. Daryl reappeared mid thought and she watched him cautiously. He held up two young rabbits, their necks broken and arrow holes in their bodies.

“Come on, we’ll go back to the barn for the night,” Daryl stated.

          Carefully she got back onto her feet and followed him, trusting his sense of direction and not really caring where he led her. Sure enough the barn loomed ahead and the cool interior was a balm to the now scorching mid-summer sun. There was no point being out there now, the animals would be finding their own respite from the heat. Isabelle stayed by the doorway, enjoying the breeze and trying to ignore the sounds of Daryl cutting up the flesh of the rabbits. He nudged her arm moments later and handed her a seared skewer of meat. Silently she ate it, ignoring his sombre presence to her right as he leaned against the other side of the doorway.

“At least she died quickly, you know,” Daryl stated.

“I’d have preferred her not to die,” Isabelle muttered. “Think we can catch a deer closer to the camp?”

          Daryl nodded as he tossed away the bone he’d been gnawing on. Slowly she turned her attention to him. He wasn’t looking at her, instead looking out over the field towards the forest obviously thinking of the hunt. His hair was longer than when she’d first met him and despite his apparent mixed feelings towards her she was sure of hers. Even if he never returned how she felt she wanted him, wanted him safe, there was enough death in the world and if he couldn’t make it then who could. Calm eyes turned to meet hers, she wanted to know everything, wanted to know what had happened to him to make him the way he was. Even with her relatively little knowledge of him she knew enough to be aware that his story would never be hers.

“What?” He demanded uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Isabelle whispered, looking away. “For today, last night, all the other times. For misinterpreting, for not understanding. I’m just sorry.”

“Since when did you start apologising?” Daryl chuckled.

“Since I did wrong by you. You shouldn’t have to say anything in order for me to stop harassing you,” Isabelle ducked her attention away from him uncomfortably.

“You’ve never bothered me,” Daryl muttered.

“Are you gay?” Isabelle blurted without warning as he looked at her in complete surprise and then anger, she felt her cheeks colour.

“No I’m not gay!” Daryl shouted. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Sorry! There’s nothing wrong with being gay. I just, no guy has ever not tried it on…” Isabelle spluttered.

“So me not trying to get into your pants makes me gay?!” Daryl shouted again.

“No, look sorry, forget I said anything,” Isabelle muttered, trying to hide her blush.

          Without warning Daryl was there, his hand knotted into her hair at the base of her neck as he pulled her in for a rough kiss. She yelped at the pain in her scalp and grasped his wrist. It was clumsy and heated and she couldn’t help but moan against him even if it was one of the least skilled kisses she had ever experienced and then another thought hit her like a steam train. Eventually he let her go and stepped away to the doorway as she stared at him with an open mouth.

“You’re a virgin?!” She shouted in surprise.

“No,” Daryl began but she’d seen the colouring of his cheeks and she couldn’t help but laugh. “What the hell’s so funny?”

“It’s not funny, why didn’t you say something?” Isabelle fought back the urge to laugh again, she couldn’t decide if she was laughing with relief or amusement.

“I’m not a virgin,” Daryl snapped, his cheeks colouring further.

“Ok, ok you just kiss like one,” Isabelle slid in the comment without thought as he glared at her. “Sorry, look it’s fine, I don’t care it would just have been nice to know.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Daryl repeated.

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” Isabelle whispered with a smile.

“I’m not…” Daryl began only for Isabelle to cut him off as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You protest too much,” She murmured against his ear, pressing a second kiss to where his pulse was.
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Survival Isn't An Option