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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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*AUTHOR'S NOTE: We are now officially back on track for Tuesday and Saturday updates :) Thank you for your patience while I've been recovering and I hope you all continue to enjoy my story x
  Silently Isabelle ran the whetstone down the bayonet blade, she had oil over her legs and her hands making the job harder, the gun slipping and sliding in her grasp. She ignored Rick and Daryl’s smirks at her plight. They hadn’t bothered to mention that the oil should be the last step of cleaning of the rifle rather than the first. She glared at Daryl’s attempt to hide his mirth and threw a stained cloth at him.
“This is taking advantage you know! When I said I wanted to help I meant teach me so that I can be useful,” Isabelle muttered in half-hearted annoyance.
“Trust me, if you were in our position, this is far more useful, being amusing,” Rick muttered with a crooked smile.
“Perhaps you should stick with cleaning dishes Belle?” Daryl chipped in with a grin.
“Oh sexism in the apocalypse, Beth come and back me up!” Isabelle called across to the group of women currently cooking the evening meal.
“Can’t spare the time at the minute Belle, I’m washing up,” Beth called back, clearly not with the conversation.
“See, Beth knows where she belongs,” Carol chirped in as she dropped into the seat opposite with a wink and took a generous bite out of an apple.
“Abandoned by my own gender! Well, that’s just charming that is!” The group chortled unitedly as her strong northern British accent rolled out with her fake annoyance. “Oh great, now pick on me for my nationality too!”
          Isabelle stuck her tongue out at Carol and flicked her fingers at her spraying her with a few droplets of oil. Daryl passed her a clean cloth and handed a second to Isabelle as he took the rifle from her lap. Isabelle rubbed at her skin and clothing, grateful she’d used one of the prison jumpsuits… generously suggested by Daryl who clearly knew exactly what she was going to do. He hadn’t bothered to point out that the oil was literally going to get everywhere and currently her hair was impersonating an oil rig. Grumbling she rubbed at it unenthusiastically before making plans for a hot shower before bed. The call came for food and the group unitedly trooped to where the vegetable broth was being dished out. Isabelle happily tucked into the mashed concoction, doing her best to ignore the oil stains on her skin. It might not have been a meal from Claridge’s or the Hilton’s renowned kitchens but these simple meals tasted better than anything she had ever eaten.
“Well at least there won’t be any bones in this one, eh Belle?” Daryl teased as he nudged her elbow.
“What is this? National pick on Belle day? No one told me you had to get the bones out of trout or whatever that blasted fish was before cooking it… I maintain my innocence,” Isabelle feigned mock hurt at the comment. “Plus, no one died! Just a few choking hazards, I told you we needed to put up signs but no one listened to me!”
          The group laughed as a whole. The weeks had been kind to them, the vegetable patch had flourished making the lack of hunting less of an issue. Summer sun had eased everyone’s minds into a state of complacency and the early summer problems had all but faded away. Slowly Isabelle had integrated herself back into the group, Beth’s simple kindness being her salvation. The only major concern that now bothered her was that she hadn’t stepped outside of the fence since the beginning of the summer. The memory of the outside world was now repressed so deeply she wondered if she’d even cope with the stress and the danger.
          As the sun set the group slowly filtered back to their respective cells, Isabelle watched silently as Glenn and Maggie disappeared to the watch tower to resume their adoration. She bit her lip, she missed that passion. Her skin prickled sensing someone was looking at her and she turned to Daryl who met her gaze easily. Things had become easy between them, simple conversations and they’d been practicing her self-defence again in the field. Days had passed easily tumbling about in the long grass with laughter and grunts. She’d managed to land him flat on his back once, his expression of shock and mild horror had ended the session as Isabelle couldn’t look at him straight for several days afterwards.
“We should go hunting you know, you need to get back out there again,” Daryl whispered, dropping into the seat next to her and resting his legs on the table.
          Isabelle swallowed nervously, the thought of stepping outside the fence made the scars on her arm and leg twinge uncomfortably. The darkness had been pushed back, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to have adrenaline. She hadn’t even volunteered to help with the fence duty of culling the ever increasing number of walkers. No one had encouraged her to either. She may have settled back into the group but everyone was still treating her with kid gloves, even she was.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Isabelle glanced at him worriedly.
“You stay behind these walls for too long and you’ll forget what it’s like out there,” Daryl pointed out calmly. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself in the long run. You were getting good at hunting, tracking and surviving. What happens when there’s no longer a chain link fence between you and them?”
“I don’t survive,” Isabelle stated pointedly.
“You still on with that no survival crap?” Daryl hissed, dropping his feet back to the floor and resting his elbows on his knees as he glared at her. “I thought you were passed that Belle.”
“No, I don’t WANT to die. It’s just… outside those walls there’s nothing but death and pain. I don’t think I’m really meant to survive this,” Isabelle looked at him seriously. “I’m not a natural fighter, I’m not a natural hunter… I can dance and I can sort of cook as long as there’s no bones…”
          Daryl’s lip quirked in amusement relieving the tension that had been growing. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to be here and she took her promise to Daryl seriously. She didn’t want to see him hurt and she certainly did not want to be the cause of that hurt. Somehow she had to survive as death seemed to hurt him, no matter who it was. The best way to ensure her survival was for her to stay where she couldn’t get into trouble, voluntarily or otherwise.
“Belle, we’re going hunting tomorrow,” Daryl informed her. “You don’t have a choice. At dawn, I’ll come and get you from your cell. Get your bow and arrows ready, we’re hunting deer.”
          Isabelle watched as he walked away quietly then seemed to think better of it. After all, she could still run for the gate. She sighed as he motioned for her to hurry up, perhaps this hunting trip would be better for everyone else if not for her. At least they might realise she really did want to be here after all. It might relieve a bit of the tension she’d started to feel. As light as the conversation had become she still caught cautious glances her way, a joke culled at the last minute when she came into hearing range just in case it was inappropriate. Pulling her hoodie up, she wobbled free from the bench and walked up to him. A hand brushed the hoodie slightly further back so it no longer overshadowed her face.
          Pausing Isabelle studied him, there was a look of something in his eyes as fingers trailed down her cheek. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the emotion exactly and it disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared as he noticed her watching him. He cleared his throat and let his hand drop to his side. It was the first time he’d touched her in any way other than teaching since her breakdown. She didn’t want it to stop but she remembered her promise, she would not make the first move, she could wait. How she ached though, every night she had seen the way Glenn and Maggie were and she craved that interaction. Deep in her chest her heart beat quicker at the thought of more than just that gentle touch, thought where it might have led to. She swallowed nervously, hoping he hadn’t read her mind, seen in her eyes how deeply she lusted.
“Come on, you need sleep,” Daryl nudged her shoulder gently with his own. “We’re running low on coffee.”
“I’ll have you know I don’t need coffee to function in a morning,” Isabelle grinned in amusement.
“No, you need an electrical charge… coffee isn’t strong enough,” Daryl teased.
          Isabelle nudged his shoulder back with her own and laughed with him. The awkwardness gone and forgotten. The nudging got more boisterous as they neared the entrance to the cells until they were almost knocking each other over. With a wicked grin Isabelle dodged his thrown shoulder and laughed as he stumbled past her and landed on the concrete with a cough. Trying to withhold her mirth she offered him a hand only to be dragged down also, landing squarely on his chest. Her heart skipped at the contact but she forced herself to stay playful instead and moved to tickle his ribs. He shouted in surprise and squirmed away, dropping her unceremoniously on the floor. She laughed and struggled back onto her feet with his help, almost doubled over at his last expression. Without warning she was silenced by his lips on hers.
          It was gentle, sweet, almost questioning and she moaned despite herself and leaned in closer. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, pull him closer and taste every inch of him but already she could feel him trying to withdraw. Reluctantly she let him go and smiled despite the breaking of her heart to release him so soon. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. She wondered what he was thinking, what kissing her had made him feel or remember. The chill of the night air met her fevered skin coldly as he stepped away and headed into the cell block. She bade him goodnight as she stepped into her cell and watched him skip up the stairs to his own. What she would have given to follow him, to just spend one more night in those arms. She still remembered how they had felt, those muscles so strong and secure about her pathetically fragile frame.
          Silently she gathered her things for the shower she still desperately craved and snuck back out. Perhaps a cold shower would be on the cards tonight, she tried to ignore the skip of her heart, still excited about that kiss. The cold water definitely removed all thoughts of romance as she battled with the remaining oil. Sated and finally feeling clean she plaited her wet hair tightly and wrung as much excess water as possible, ignoring the shivers of cold as the droplets hit her skin. Wrapping herself up in the oversized shirt she made her way back to the cells.
Carefully she pulled the door closed and dropped onto her bunk. Despite the warmth of the summer day that still rested in the cells she felt the chill of the shower long after it should have faded. There was only one kind of heat she wanted and it was not going to be hers this night. With a rough grunt she rolled onto her other side and curled herself into a tight ball. Silently she plucked at her shirt, the threads were wearing thin at the cuffs. A rattle drew her attention back to the door as it swung open almost silently and her hand trailed to the dagger she kept under her pillow. She scowled in the dark at the presence of the person, silently a warm body dropped onto the bunk, its back to her. Instantly she knew the smell of Daryl and watched as he glanced over his own shoulder at her. She knew he could see her watching him in the dim moonlight.
          Without another word Daryl turned, pressing his chest to her back as he shuffled into the bunk and spooned his larger frame about her. His arm wrapped about her waist and pulled her closer, his face pressed into the crook of her neck. Isabelle fought to keep the smile at bay as he heaved a sigh and settled in for the night. Carefully she placed her hand over his and entwined her fingers, a thrill rocked her as he knotted his fingers into hers. Safe, she felt so safe. Nothing in the world could touch her while he was here, his arm around her. She didn’t care how naïve the thought was, didn’t care that it was a totally false thought with no accuracy. All she cared about right now was that touch she had craved, the heat of another person against her even through clothing was intoxicating. Peacefully she drifted into a deep sleep, deeper than she could ever remember.

          Tendrils of early dawn stirred her before she was ready and she cracked her ribs and back carefully with a small cat stretch. Careful not to disturb the man sleeping under her cheek. Somehow she’d managed to press herself into his side, her head on his chest and an arm casually thrown over a muscular chest. Who was it she’d taken to bed this time… Enrique? No, too toned… Jacob? Too broad… Nathaniel! It must have been him, there was no one else in the touring group unless she’d landed some demi-god in a club but she didn’t feel hung over.
          Blinking she glanced up to confirm exactly who she was sleeping on top of. Rough, rugged features, stubbles on his chin, long hair, dirty… had she picked up a hobo… why did she feel so safe. The arm lightly draped over her shoulders, fingers gently pressed against her as if afraid to lose contact felt too safe. This was someone she knew, someone she cared about. Who did she know that was dirty? Mumbling she shuffled her hips, cursing cheap hotel beds for the aches she now had. Why couldn’t they afford decent memory foam mattresses? How hard was it? That struck as a familiar thought and she blinked as she started to truly awaken.
          The zombies, the death, the bite… she glanced up at Daryl, still asleep. Apparently she wasn’t the only one benefitting from a deeper than usual slumber. Well she wasn’t about to complain, silently she snuggled closer resting her leg between his and there was a certain bulge pressed against her kneecap. Carefully she moved her leg away again despite her suddenly insanely high curiosity. She wanted more of these nights and she doubted encouraging an early morning erection that he had no control over was the way to win him around that this was a good idea.
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Survival Isn't An Option