Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 35
- 36
- 37
          Isabelle moaned contentedly, not caring that walkers or the group could fall upon them at any moment. Slowly Daryl released his almost deadlock grasp about her and she backed off, noticing the distant growls and groans of the walkers that were still milling about the train depot. “You ever take a knife from my belt again and it won’t be… That was dangerous Belle, if I hadn’t realised it was you, I could have hurt you.”
“A girl has to be able to defend herself,” Isabelle grinned at him and held out the blade she’d taken when he’d taken hers back during the kiss. His smoothly moving hands had been too subtle and she’d felt the dagger handle snag on her belt before he’d got it completely free. Instantly she had relieved him of his own dagger, her smaller hands finding the task much easier.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” He reached to take it back only for her to skip back a step with a wicked grin, he sighed in tolerating defeat. “You going to keep that one then? Thought you’d have preferred the larger one.”
          Isabelle turned it over in her hands, it was definitely smaller than the one he’d taken back but she could still do some damage with it and it fitted more comfortably in her palm. He held out the larger one but she shook her head and tucked the smaller one through her belt. Slowly they caught up with the group in the clearing ahead as Rick dug up the bag he’d stowed. Isabelle took stock of what she had as the group doled out the stored weapons. Daryl’s jerkin was still her only upper body cover other than her bra, her jeans and belt were tolerable and the smaller dagger fitted nicely into the small amount of give in the belt. She no longer had shoes, having forgotten them in the train car when she’d tossed them off to clamber onto Abraham’s shoulders. It would make travelling painful but there would be boots or shoes somewhere along the road. At the end of the day she could take them from a walker if she had to.
“It’s crawling with walkers, it’s over,” Michonne’s voice echoed loudly drawing her from her thoughts and back into the clearing.
          She glanced at each of the gathered group, had they all been considering taking over the train depot or just Rick? Isabelle cursed at herself mentally for not paying attention. As she studied each face she saw the rising tension, the group dynamic had changed during the run from the prison. Rick was back as the unquestioned leader but there was also doubt and moderation from everyone else if not over his leadership then at least over his decisions. Even Daryl seemed obviously dubious of Rick’s order to presumably take back the train depot from the countless dead and dying.
There was also a strikingly clear division between the prison group and the four that had joined with the others in the train carriage. Isabelle got the distinct feeling she wasn’t with either, just another tag along, another mouth to feed and another outcast. It was better than she deserved in her opinion and she wasn’t going to upset the situation by trying to force herself back into the good graces of the prison group… even she did agree with Rick about taking the train depot. There was time for them to trust her again and she would get it back. Right now, voicing her opinion would only garner faith from one man and she wasn’t sure he was entirely mentally stable at the minute.
          Daryl’s sudden surge from her side was the only distraction from her inner monologue. She glanced up, reaching for her dagger before realising he was running for Carol. Slowly she lowered her hand, standing with the other outcasts as the prison group greeted their lost member. She watched silently as they fawned over their missing member and she felt a twinge of jealousy in her gut. Dismissing it she turned her attention to the man closest to her, with his dodgy half grown out haircut. “Don’t think we’ve been introduced, I’m Isabelle,” She held her hand out.
“Eugene, and these are my colleagues Abraham and Rosita,” Eugene took her hand gently, either nervous or unsure but she couldn’t tell. “You know Daryl and Maggie?”
“Yeah, I was with them in the prison camp. Daryl found me a year after the outbreak and they took me in,” Isabelle smiled warmly, letting her fingers trail from his slowly, cutting a sensual line along the curve of the palm.
          He turned away, uncomfortable at her attention. Isabelle smiled internally, her eyes catching Abraham’s. He was watching her suspiciously as if he suspected her of her plan; she smiled graciously and turned back to the group as they handed out the last of the weapons. She still had every intention of getting as much information as possible about that cure, no single person deserved to hold that information, no single person was safe enough either. Rick approached, handed her a pistol and a handful of bullets then paused as if to say something before patting her shoulder and heading back to the centre of the gathered group. Quiet conversation filtered off to give way to a discussion of where to head to. Carol spoke of a cabin, the baby and Tyreese and they were off, the bag on Rick’s shoulders bouncing as he strode away with greater urgency than she had ever seen in him before. Daryl fell into line with her, passing her a second dagger before noting her state of dress.
“You don’t have any shoes?” He muttered, pointing to her feet and pulling up.
“I can walk, my feet are used to worse than leaves and twigs,” Isabelle pointed out sheathing the dagger in the other side of her belt, there was no harm in collecting weapons again.
          Isabelle strode onwards, considering her options. Rick’s attitude towards her suggested he still wanted her in the group, still trusted her at least to a degree. Perhaps it was only the bridges with the others she had burned with her appalling behaviour in the carriage. The memory sent her sick with disgust. She wished fervently now that she had never spoken of her past, had kept it where it belonged; in the darkest of places of long repressed memories. She had never had a problem with lying about those behaviours before, why was it getting harder? Why was she feeling guiltier about it now than when she had been engaging in it? Daryl caught her eye as he stepped back up alongside her, his thumbs tucked under his rucksacks straps as they plodded up the wooded hill. The guilt welled up like a toxic wave to press against her heart and throat and she turned her attention to her feet. She still didn’t know his past, what was to say he hadn’t engaged in worse behaviours than her? What did it matter? What did she have to prove to any of these people other than she deserved a place amongst their ranks and in their protection…?
          The ball of her foot collided with something hard and reluctant to move. Impulsion stolen from her she fell hard to the leaf-strewn floor, feeling the twinge at her waist as the skin flexed against the already strained stitches. Groaning half in embarrassment and half in pain she pressed her hands to her face, covering her eyes and wished the world away. These thoughts needed to stop. She needed to just focus on one day at a time, get through this apocalypse and try not to kill herself by tripping over twigs. A hand pressed against her ankle, checking her foot and she knew without looking that Daryl would be inspecting the damage already; most likely he would be smirking. She dragged her hands down her face and sure enough the smirk was there.
“I just tripped, no harm done,” She muttered, grasping his offered hand and letting him pull her back to her feet.
“Told you that you needed boots,” Daryl smirked again.
          Isabelle strode on, she heard his snort of amusement before he caught up again after a short jog. She glanced over her shoulder at him, his eyes were on the ground. Feeling her eyes on him he looked up and met her gaze soundly. For a moment there was something there, something she hadn’t felt before, far more intense than usual. Daryl looked away quickly, she suspected he’d felt it too or had at least seen it in her eyes. An uncomfortable air from being separated and then thrown back together, with the turmoil of their indecision on how to proceed with each other settled over their shoulders. The comfortable atmosphere that had begun to flourish between them at the prison was now in direct threat of falling apart. Turmoil, tension and threat was the bigger issue right now, Isabelle glanced back towards the still smoking train depot.
“Maggie told me about Nathaniel,” Daryl whispered. “And I saw the ring.” Isabelle’s hand fled to the chain about her neck, the cold diamond pressing in her palm as her fingers crushed it. She’d forgotten she was wearing it. Attention now acutely on Daryl, trying to assess his thoughts, feelings, anything, but as usual he was a stone block of emotion. “He must have been something special,” Daryl muttered, shuffling his pack uncomfortably.
“He was…” Isabelle mumbled back, letting her hand fall from the ring again.
“You loved him then?” Daryl questioned, his gaze flickering between the horizon and the floor.
          Isabelle grimaced, how was she supposed to respond to that. If she said she had loved him then it all felt too real and she wasn’t sure if she ever had which meant she would be lying. There was also something strange about admitting caring for another man to a man that you had stronger feelings for but that you couldn’t admit to in case he was scared off completely. If she said she had only been dating Nathaniel to get his lifestyle and money, then that sounded even worse. Daryl was watching her now, apparently aware of the inner monologue that she was thundering through. She felt colour run into her cheeks and this time it was her that was looking between the horizon and the floor uncomfortably.
“You don’t have to answer,” Daryl informed her in his usual drawl.
“It was… complicated,” Isabelle finished, taking the exit Daryl had given her and running with it. “I cared about him a lot, he cared about me. We probably weren’t any good for one another in truth but the situation was convenient.”
“That why you killed him?” The words punched into her stomach icily and Isabelle paused to gather herself.
“It was mercy,” She whispered.
“You know when I found you on that horse, I didn’t think you’d make it through the winter. Thought I’d be digging your grave in weeks. Knew I’d have to keep an eye out constantly, you were more fragile than the others,” Daryl began.
“Please, don’t mince your words,” Isabelle grumbled, not really in a position to deny the picture he’d painted.
“I’m not, I never thought you’d be able to take of yourself. All posh and that, no idea what it’s like in the real world. You screamed it with just one look at you,” Daryl paused, coming to a standstill and Isabelle found she couldn’t walk away. “I never thought you’d have it in you to kill, or defend yourself or to help others.”
“I’ve changed, so has everyone else.” Isabelle pointed out, struggling to control her confusion and annoyance. “What’s your point with this Daryl?” Isabelle snapped, afraid there was an issue with her being slightly more likely to survive.
“Just careful you don’t go too far,” Daryl drawled, stepping up to her. His eyes bored straight into hers.
“Why? Threatened your usefulness to me is decreasing?” Isabelle shouted, louder than she had meant to and she instantly blushed again.
“I ain’t afraid of nobody or nothing,” He stormed instinctively at the slightest hint of offence to his personality. Isabelle prepared for an argument until she saw him visibly calming himself. “I’m just saying, the harder you make yourself the more people will distance themselves from you,” His hand landed on her shoulder, trailed slowly up to her neck after a moment, his fingers pressing gently to pull her forwards and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
- 35
- 36
- 37
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Survival Isn't An Option