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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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          Stepping back into the camp proved harder than Isabelle had anticipated after Carol’s words. Her ability to disappear from everyone’s vision she suspected was not out of respect as she had assumed but out of dismissal, she was inconsequential. She looked to her hands, still clutching Daryl’s jerkin, looked to the fire, met Daryl’s gaze for a moment before she had to look away again uncomfortable at the expression upon his face. Turning to her rucksack she pulled Daryl’s closer and replaced the cans he had moved over the previous day into hers, laying the jerkin neatly alongside her. She would teach her body to carry the weight again and to be strong. She would get her fitness back and be a survivor in her own right.
“What are you doing?” Daryl whispered, holding two hunks of venison by the bone as he stepped up to where she was seated.
“It’s not fair for you to carry all of this,” Isabelle stated calmly. “I need to get stronger and fitter, what better way than by pushing myself a little more each day?”
“Another way would be to eat something, here,” He pushed the venison into her hand as he dropped down next to her and nudged the rucksacks aside with his foot.
          Isabelle sighed before taking it, appetite long since lost as she turned the meat over in her hands. Slowly she bit into it, they didn’t exactly know when the next meal would come and there was no point wasting what they had now. The sun set and they stoked the fire one last time before the group settled into their spots for the night. There was no point in killing the fire now, anything that was going to find them would have already done so during the day. The decision to move on had been delayed for another night in favour of everyone’s desperate need for rest.
          Daryl had offered to take the first of the watch shifts and perched himself against a tree, crossbow folded into his arms. She was in two minds whether to join him on watch or catch some sleep. At the same time, she did not want to talk either about the safety comment or Carol’s words of wisdom. She knew he wanted to ask what they’d spoken about to cause her mood. Every now and again she felt his attention flick to her, words hovering there but always pushed away with a grunt of dismissal. She turned her focus to making a nest in the leaves, closer to the fire than the previous night and settled into it as she wrapped her arms about herself. Daryl had slipped the jerkin back on without a word before taking up watch, the faint outline of the right wing catching the fire’s flicker of light. She watched it silently until the cold depths of sleep washed over her.
“Why would he care about you?” The voice whispered in her ear, cold breath against her cheek.
“Because I love him,” Isabelle whispered back as the scene unfolded.
          Her old apartment in London, the bed against the brick wall, the sloped ceilings with exposed beams and the wall of windows to her left. Fingers brushed gently against her throat, pulling curls of hair away that had fallen from a chignon that had seen better days. Gently the fingers trailed over her shoulders, bare to the off the shoulder silk of the gown that she had worn to a function so many years ago. She recognised the patterning as she glanced down, it had been when she first brought Nathaniel back to the apartment, they’d both been drunk on champagne and neither really aware of what they had done. It had ended up torn beyond repair and hanging from a rafter.
“Love, you don’t know what that is. You’re just another whore,” The voice continued, hands now brushing down her sides slowly, rumpling the silk and pulling it taunt over her frame before releasing.
“No,” Isabelle whispered softly.
“Just a whore who lies about her friends, dead friends who can’t even defend themselves,” Chilled and vicious the words were finished with an icy kiss to her throat.
“I…” Isabelle couldn’t get the rest of the words out as arms fastened about her ribs, ceasing any breath from entering.
“How many men were in that bed with you over the years? How many beds have you lain in?” It snapped and growled against her, ragged lips catching her ears as the words spat out viciously. “Everyone in your company whored did they? I hardly think so, they never had the time they were too busy perfecting their art while you were busy perfecting your future.”
          Hands spun her around and she stared into the half decomposed features of Nathaniel. “This is just a nightmare,” Isabelle whispered as rotten hands pressed against her cheeks and pulled her in for a brutal kiss.
“You were never the prima ballerina the company deserved, you just fucked your way there,” The voice screamed again, millimetres from her face.
“No, I trained hard every day, I deserved it!” Isabelle screamed back, throwing herself backwards and flailing herself free from the clutches of the dead being before her.
“You deserved nothing, even that redneck that you looked down on so much at first is too good for you. I’m in your head Isabelle, I know your very thoughts. Every twisted reason, every excuse and lamentation. They all know, they all whisper it behind your back,” Nathaniel whispered coolly, stepping closer for every step she took backwards.
          Isabelle stumbled backwards further, turning and heading for the bathroom only for the door to slam shut in her face. Sealed into the bedroom she turned back to Nathaniel.
“You’re just fucking him because you think it’ll make your odds of survival better. You have no use, no skill, no ability to love, that’s just your excuse to yourself so you don’t feel like you’re still using people for your own advantage.” Nathaniel hissed, Isabelle slipped on the gown as she stumbled back a step and fell hard onto the floor. She scrambled backwards until her upper body collided with the side of the bed. “That’s what they say, what they know, and you know it too,” Nathaniel stormed closer, pulling her upright with his bone fingers wrapped into her dress.
“That’s not true,” Isabelle shouted, trying to wrestle his grasp free.
“It’s always been true; you always go for those that will keep you alive. That will best prolong your miserable existence in the most comfort and luxury with the least amount of effort you have to put in,” Nathaniel hissed, dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor once more, dead fingers still gripping her shoulders. “Rick is more of a survivor and he leads the group but you knew he’d never choose you over his wife. Just some silly little whore in comparison to her.”
“I’m not a whore,” Isabelle screamed into his face finally snapping his hands free. “I never loved you, I never loved anyone, I made mistakes and I’m trying to rectify them. This is a different world; I have a chance to learn who I am away from all the lies. I would never hurt Daryl.”
“Daryl, so sweet, so vulnerable and so pliable in your skilled little hands,” Nathaniel whispered, shaking her violently. “Singing the same story over and over, crying that it’s true love doesn’t make it true,” He screamed the words into her face and shook her again, hard enough for her head to snap back and forth. “Belle, you’re going to die for your crimes, you’ll pay for what you did to everyone in the old world and no one will mourn your passing. BELLE!” He screamed her name, and stormed away before turning back and standing at her feet. Nathaniel surged forwards, screaming her name as he grasped her dress and pulled her forwards.
          A resounding slap finally made her gasp for breath and her eyes snapped open to look straight into Daryl’s. Isabelle fought to get her breath back under control, glancing at the worried expressions staring down at her. She realised her fists were clenched in Daryl’s jerkin and she slowly forced her fingers to let go. “I’m fine,” She stuttered, brushing hair from her face and ignoring the sting to her right cheek.
“You were screaming,” Carol leaned around Daryl’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, just a bad dream,” Isabelle spluttered as she shuffled backwards and pulled her legs into her chest for something to ground her.
“Sounded like more than a bad dream,” Daryl muttered as the group began to disperse.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak everyone out,” Isabelle tugged at her hair, she’d thrashed enough for it to have escaped her plait and hung limply about her shoulders.
“They’re not mad Belle, they were worried,” Daryl whispered, still knelt before her, she felt him shuffle closer and brush her hair aside gently. “Thought a walker had got you, or would do if you kept going,” His eyes raked over her as if still unable to believe it had just been a dream, she wondered how loudly she’d screamed.
“No I wouldn’t be that lucky,” Isabelle moaned before realising what she’d said and seeing Daryl’s confusion and hurt. “I meant, it would have been preferable to what I dreamed about. I’m not suicidal again.”
“Good to know,” Daryl snapped uncomfortably before standing and looking around.
“I’ll take over, Daryl. You get some rest,” Rick muttered, glancing between them both. “See if you can keep her quiet, last thing we need is a horde of walkers,” Rick stepped away, his hand on his pistol. Daryl nodded slowly and pulled the crossbow strap over his head. He dropped down heavily to lie next to where Isabelle had been moments ago. He motioned for her to return and tugged her ankle when she didn’t move immediately.
“Suit yourself,” He mumbled when she still didn’t return.
She watched him fold his hands over his chest as she fought to calm her breath. Silently she curled up where she was on her better side, wrapping her arms about herself tightly in an effort to feel safe. How did you stay safe from your own thoughts though? The warmth of a body pressing against her back told her Daryl wasn’t letting her sleep alone tonight. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, he took the opportunity to slide his arm under her neck and wrap it about her. His other arm dropping over her waist and holding her hand in his to pull her closer. Silently she let her head rest against his arm and shoulder, her fingers knotted with his against her stomach. Daryl’s steady breath against the back of her neck and the warmth of his body against hers was a lullaby in its own right.
          Dawn rose and with it the group, half-awake and shuffling as they themselves were walkers. They silently packed up their things, finished the venison that was left and began to snake their way through the forest. Several days passed with no greater event than a growing suspicion that they were being followed. Isabelle kept herself quiet, staying at the outskirts of the group, aware that everyone was watching her suspiciously as if expecting her to break down right there before them. She chose to ignore it; she knew she wasn’t going to break.
Their latest camp was by the river once more; they’d strayed from it once but had struggled to find water in the last blazes of summer heat. With no set direction they’d returned the following day, choosing to follow it until a better plan could arise. Isabelle paused in her preparations of some left over rabbit and watched as Rick left with Daryl on a hunt once more. They’d gone out every night, not once had he asked her to go with them and she hadn’t pushed it.
The tension that had settled between her and Daryl had eased with her staying with the group. One benefit of her perceived fragility was that he was no longer asked to do night watches. The one time he’d offered Carol had looked pointedly at Isabelle. The message had been clear, if Daryl was staying up then so was Isabelle for fear she’d have another nightmare. It was a silent agreement within the group that she was not to be allowed to sleep unless Daryl was there to keep her silent. Some nights she’d started with the tremors of a nightmare only to be gently shaken or kissed awake, she didn’t confess a couple had been fake just to feel his lips on hers.
          The only major issue with this arrangement was the rising sexual tension. Every night he shuffled just enough in his sleep to press his erection into her and every night she had to fight the urge to grope him or worse. They were moving too early in the morning for anything to happen then and they only stopped long enough to set up camp, hunt and sleep. One taste had not been enough, she was parched and needed to quench her thirst. She doubted there would be much refusal or deterrence from him either, more than once she had woken to a hand trailing over a breast or creeping lower.
          Watching him walk away this time she fought against her desire to follow. Surely one hunt wouldn’t hurt anyone, surely one romp in the forest could only be good? She wasn’t made to sit back and watch. She was used to working out for twelve hours a day, sometimes more, and her body still craved that level even after all this time. As the darkness began to fall the group became more tense. They didn’t normally stay out this late, which meant either they’d found something or something had found them. Isabelle took to patrolling the edge of the camp anxiously, arms crossed with her dagger in hand. Her eyes and ears primed for the slightest disturbance in the dark. Carol stepped alongside her, pausing her pacing as they stared out together.
“What do we do if they don’t return?” Isabelle whispered.
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Survival Isn't An Option