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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
- 18
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- 20
*AUTHOR'S NOTE - apologies for the long absence, unfortunately I've been in hospital with tonsillitis of all things! I'm now home and recovering well however updates will most likely be limited to once a week for a couple of weeks while I get back on track and finish recovering :) Predicted update days are Friday at the minute, I have Chapter 19 ready and waiting ;)

These people that she had questioned if they cared or not had obviously invested a lot of time and resources on her. How was she repaying them? Slowly Isabelle lowered the knife and the potato and glanced at the bandaged wound where it was beginning to ooze through. She’d pulled the skin and the stitches and not noticed, carefully she leaned backwards against the wall and sighed.

“I died,” She whispered.

          Daryl nodded, watching her carefully. She let it sink in a little more, if she’d died that meant someone must have been ready with a gun or a knife aimed at her head. She wondered briefly who that person had been before deciding she didn’t want to know. It wouldn’t help in any way. It felt strange to think it could have all been over. All the pain and the suffering and the constant desperation to just survive. In a way she wished she hadn’t woken up, just drifted off into nothing.

“You ok?” Daryl nudged her hand gently.

“Yeah, just… I was dead. It could have been over but you all brought me back,” Isabelle looked down at her hands and plucked the bandage absently. “Instead I’m here, scarred, ugly and useless.”

“What makes you think that?” He scowled at her.

“You think this looks pretty? A long burn and scar?” Isabelle raised her bandaged arm.

“I think it doesn’t matter,” Daryl whispered with a frown.

          Isabelle watched him warily. Had he been the one to hold the gun or the knife to her head? She was so confused, so lost. Being told she’d been dead had unravelled a whole new torrent of thoughts on her already stressed mind. Daryl’s presence was confusing her more. Was he actually concerned or just on some form of medical guard duty now?

“Just leave me alone,” Isabelle snapped, pushing herself free from the bench and stalking off towards the paddock. “Please, Daryl, I just need to be alone.”

She brushed off his hand and continued walking down to the grass. Numbly she dropped into it and plucked absently at the strands. She wasn’t going to survive this world and these people wouldn’t let her die while they were around. Silently she contemplated what she was going to do. The urge to survive was still strong in her heart but it was starting to tarnish. Slipping away so easily and not even knowing was so tempting though. To leave so peacefully, no stress, no more hurt, no more pressure or doubt. Her eyes turned to the roaming walkers, a group of survivors working the fence again to thin the growing numbers. They weren’t a problem yet but they would be. What hope did any of them have in this world? Wouldn’t it be easier for a nice simple death that they had control over?

Isabelle glanced back at the prison, Daryl was watching her with Carol. They were made to survive, hardened and capable of doing what needed to be done. They were in the minority. Her eyes turned back to walkers, past them to the forest beyond. She wanted to be out there. Wanted the freedom, the threat, to just feel alive… or to die. There was no way Daryl would let her out of his sight now, he had a complex for saving people that were already damned and she believed she’d become his latest cause. So how was she going to get out of the prison alone? There was still the damaged wing, boarded and secured but it was sealed so well that there was rarely anyone watching over it. The gate was watched over constantly now that the walkers were more numerous so that was no longer an option.

There was no way anyone would take her out now and she doubted she’d be allowed out on her own. She couldn’t just disappear either or they would send out parties to find her. No point in risking others’ lives for her own choice. Nervous energy was raging through her veins and her legs were twitching in anticipation. She needed to move now, needed to be free again. Away from all of these people, all of this confusion! Without thinking Isabelle was on her feet and rushing towards the gate. She pulled at the link and snapped it free, rattling the gate open she slid through and realising she couldn’t move the heavy metal doors she hurdled the wooden palisades and ran into the forest. Shouts echoed after her but she wasn’t listening through the psychosis.

It didn’t matter what they said, what they claimed all that mattered was the grass beneath her bare feet and the walkers around her. The walkers were around her… Isabelle froze as time seemed to stop before her. Lifeless eyes stared at her, teeth snapped noisily and fingers reached to grasp at her. Her breath left in a whoosh and she couldn’t breathe back in. Death was approaching with his cold mantle as his angels stumbled ever closer. Turning slowly she looked at them, their quiet shuffling, soft grunting noises. What was there to fear?

Reality hit her like a freight train as the skull of one exploded in front of her. It’s unanimated corpse dropping at her feet. A second one stumbling closer followed its companion to the floor with no head. Isabelle stumbled backwards into the chest of another and a hand grasped her shoulder, she could feel the rancid breath as much as smell it as a mouth and teeth approached her throat. The pressure was removed without warning, the grasp on her shoulder pulling her over and she fell on top of the now beheaded body. So much blood and body fluid pooled around her, over her clothing. Something was clamped onto her ankle and then there was an awful pressure on her calf. Gasping at the pain she turned and stared at the walker biting into her jeans. She screamed as someone kicked it away and pain raced through her leg. Hands grasped her arms and pulled her upright and then they were running, or at least limping. Back towards the prison and she was all too happy to be heading in that direction.

Rick was shouting at her as he pushed her through the gates and she fell into the grass carelessly. Hands were on her instantly pulling her clothing free and someone was pushing her jean leg up where the biter had gotten a hold of her. There was gasping and shouting and she stared at the grass in front of her. Had she been bitten? Was there a gun about to be pressed to her head? Her heart was in her mouth followed by bile as she realised what she had done… what had just happened. Hands were still pressed over the back of her calf and she could feel a sticky warmth running down her skin. She was bleeding, it had torn the flesh.

“Do we need to amputate?” Hershel shouted as he stumbled down to them.

          Isabelle glanced up at him, the words sinking in cold and clear and removing the last of the psychosis from her shattered mind. What had she done? What had she been thinking?

“No, she is the luckiest idiot alive. Her jeans didn’t tear, the flesh is bitten but there was the material between. Lucky bitch.” Daryl shouted back.

          Of course he would have been part of the rescue party. Stupid little ballerina once again needing rescuing by a hill billy. Hershel knelt by her again and inspected the wound. More stitches from the sound of it, but at least no need for fire or burning. Isabelle glanced back at the tatty mess of her calf and felt tears come to her eyes. She buried her face in the grass and wept. Hands dug underneath her and pulled her upright and she looked up at the glare of Daryl.

“What the fuck were thinking?” He hissed at her.

“I wanted to die,” She screamed at him.

“Good attempt but next time do it in such a way that we don’t end up almost having another walker on our doorstep,” Daryl shouted back.

          Isabelle slapped him, harder than she’d intended, too much was going through her mind again. His fingers released her in the shock. She turned and tried to stalk back to the prison block only to stumble and fall. Hands grasped her arm and steadied her and she moved to slap him again only for Rick to glare at her instead, this time his hand gripping her arm and pulling her upright.

“Daryl, just leave this to me,” Rick pushed him away gently and continued to escort her back to the cell. “From now on you are being locked in your cell until someone is available to escort you. You don’t go anywhere or do anything without my express permission. Do I make myself clear? I’m not having you endangering this group.”

          Isabelle stared at him and nodded, letting him tug her back into the cells. Unceremoniously she found herself tossed into her cell and the door locked behind her. She stepped up and wrapped her fingers about the cold metal watching Rick carefully.

“I didn’t mean to endanger anyone else, I’m sorry,” She whispered into the quiet.

“Your part of this community. There are people here who care about you,” Rick stated calmly. “We won’t see one of our own hurt or injured or killed without trying to do something about it. You lose your head again you tell me or Hershel or Daryl and we’ll lock you in here. For now, you stay right here and you’re only coming out when Hershel says your arm and leg are healed. Think about what you want, if you don’t want to stay here we won’t stop you from leaving. You pull something like that again and I will shoot you myself.”

          Slowly she nodded and headed back to the bed, she should have thanked him but somehow the words didn’t feel right. They were clumsy in her mouth and for the situation. How did you thank someone for saving your life again, and for risking their own?

“Am I healed enough now?” Isabelle asked impatiently.

          It had been a month since her escape attempt. Hershel plucked the last bit of stitching free from her arm and watched her with patient eyes. She knew he was contemplating the most diplomatic way to answer. It was hardly necessary to keep her locked up because of her physical wounds, the issue was her mental state. As far as that was concerned, how was anyone able to tell if you could mentally stand the apocalypse.

“Physically, you should be fine,” Hershel lowered his scissors and patted at the drops of blood on her arm with a scrap of material. “How are you in your head?”

“I’m ok. I just want to help,” Isabelle whispered. “I’m going insane in here.”

          It was true, this month of isolation had brought her back to reality. She wasn’t ready to quit, she had come so far. Beth had spent several hours every day chatting while they peeled vegetables. Several others had visited, even Rick had popped to talk to her for an hour just last week. Although she suspected that his call had been more about determining her mental health and threat level. The only one that hadn’t stopped for any length of time had been Daryl. She didn’t blame him, her behaviour had been appalling towards him. It didn’t matter if he was using her as an anchor because she was the most likely to kill herself by doing something ‘helpful’ no one deserved to be spoken to and harassed how she had bothered him. She wanted to apologise but hadn’t had opportunity.

“You know Rick won’t let you out of the gates alone again,” Hershel intoned as he packed his small medical bag. “He probably won’t let you out of the cell block alone again.”

“I know and that’s fine,” Isabelle stated, to lose her freedom for a while was a small price to pay to escape this interminable chill of the cell. “I just want to feel the sun on my skin again before winter comes. I’d like to just sit in the courtyard and peel vegetables, I can be chained to a bench or something that’s ok. Can you just ask Rick please?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hershel smiled his usual soft smile and left, the cell locked behind him once again. “Oh before I forget, here, I thought this might have some use for you.”

          Isabelle stepped up to the gate and took a book from him. It was a thick tome, much thicker than the other books he’d brought her. She turned it over, it was a book on a survivor of the Holocaust. She thanked Hershel and dropped back onto the bed. An hour passed followed by another and it was only as the sun was beginning to set through the barred windows that Isabelle noticed someone watching her. She blinked, she had been so focused on the book she hadn’t seen Daryl working on his crossbow on the table opposite her cell. Slowly she lowered it and sat up a little straighter.

“Daryl?” She called out softly, half in doubt, half in confidence as his eyes met hers and he lowered the crossbow. “Can we talk?” Slowly he placed the crossbow on the table and approached the cell door.

“Rick said you wanted to get out for a little bit, asked me to keep an eye you,” Daryl intoned as he pulled a key from his jacket pocket. “You looked occupied and I needed to do a bit of maintenance.”

          The cell clicked open and he pulled the door open slowly, Isabelle stepped out, slightly giddy at the increased sense of space. She thanked him quietly as he led the way out into the courtyard and the chill night air, crossbow slung over his shoulder. Silently they made their way to the field and to where they wouldn’t be overheard. Isabelle dropped to the grass and looked up at Daryl. His arms were folded as he looked out towards the gate. The last time they had been here she’d run, all the way into a horde of walkers. She could see the memory of it repeat in his eyes and a glimpse of pain.

“I’m sorry. For everything I said and did,” Isabelle stated clearly, now was not the time for subtlety. “I didn’t mean to slap you either, I was not in a good state of mind.”

“Doesn’t matter, in the past,” Daryl mumbled, still not meeting her eyes or dropping to sit next to her.

“I didn’t mean to endanger anyone either, I just… I don’t know what I wanted,” Isabelle stuttered remembering the day all too well and how close she had come to dying or being turned into one of those wretched corpses.

“Belle, what were you thinking?” Daryl snapped finally looking at her.

“I wasn’t, that’s the problem,” Isabelle muttered ashamedly.

“You got bit,” Daryl’s arms tightened visibly as he hugged himself, once again unable to look at her. “Why would you risk that?”

“You said I died, it just seemed so simple. Like I couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, couldn’t mess up any more. Let’s face it, I’ve hardly been the most productive or useful person here,” Isabelle stuttered.

“No you haven’t but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong. Everyone here has lost someone, believe it or not we’re tired of burying people. Tired of losing them,” Daryl stated calmly.

          Isabelle glanced up at him, for just a moment she saw the pain and the toll this world was taking on him. He wasn’t immune after all, for all his bravado he looked now as if he was the one suffering the most and feeling the wounds to the group most personally. Did he take everything to heart? He was so confusing, one minute beyond aloof that she wondered how soon he would kill her and at other times he seemed to feel more than anyone. Every time anyone was in danger he was there first, putting himself between them and whatever the threat was. Perhaps he knew her pull towards death better than she thought.

“You know why I did that don’t you?” Isabelle declared staring at him with fresh understanding. “You think exactly like me, it should be me, not them, they’re better than me.”

          Daryl glared at her and she knew she’d hit a chord of truth. He was self-sacrificing in his own way, he’d give his life for anyone else. Her thought process was twisted in that she just didn’t think she should be here, but his entire self-worth was based on keeping others safe. If that was at the cost of his life then at least he had done something good. Silently she stood to look him straight in the eye and for the first time it was her fingers on his chin forcing him to look at her.

“No one will hurt you while I’m around Daryl,” Isabelle whispered.
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Survival Isn't An Option