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Salvation	By : madnad Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 8393 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Walking Dead universe & Daryl Dixon belongs wholly to Kirkman/AMC. Original character Lilith belongs to me. I make no money from writing of this story and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only. Do Not Repost elsewhere without permission

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Daryl stepped out of the small office in the guard tower that he used as a bedroom. The dawn was heavy with moisture; a low ground mist blanketed the prison grounds. The sun was already fairly warm, so he knew it would burn off quickly.
He looked out and saw Lilith was already at the target, but instead of using her bow, she was throwing a knife, the faint thunk! as it sunk into the target carrying easily on the still air. He threw on a clean t-shirt and headed down to join her.
As he approached her she smiled in greeting, walking towards him as she came back from retrieving her knife. Despite the bright sun illuminating her face, he noticed the dark shadows under her eyes.
"You look awful, girl," he said. "Didn't you sleep?"
"Not really," she shrugged. "I just… I don't like it in there," she added squinting towards the prison.
"It's a lot safer than out there," he said, indicating towards the nearby fence with his head.
"Yeah… I know." She looked down, and picked at imaginary lint on her pants. "It's just…" She didn’t finish, and seemed reluctant to share whatever it was that was keeping her awake at night. He respected her privacy so let the matter drop by changing the subject.
"Pretty damn good with that knife," he said. He meant it too. She was almost as accurate with her knife as she was with the bow.
"Thanks. I've had a lot of practice."
Another mystery, he thought. She was a bit of an enigma. Normally, he was happy to ignore puzzles like this, but he found the more he knew about her, the more questions he had than answers.
"So, are we doing this shit or what?" he asked, pointing at the knife.
"OK, someone is keen this morning," she laughed. "Are you ready for me to beat your arse?" she asked playfully.
He couldn't help but smile at her taunting. She was good, but he was confident he could beat her.
"I don’t have anything to worry about."
"Let's make this interesting then," she replied, folding her arms. "Do you fancy a wager?" In folding her arms, she had pushed her breasts up and together, and a soft valley of flesh was now all too visible, and Daryl was momentarily distracted.
His throat suddenly dry, he swallowed before replying. "What d'ya have in mind?"
Her large brown eyes stared up to the sky, and she pondered. He watched her chew on her full bottom lip, as she deliberated. "OK. Closest to bulls-eye wins each round. Best out of five, and if I win… I get a hug."
He must have looked a little surprised, as she started laughing at his expression. "We can haggle over the length, if that makes you happier," she said, still sniggering. "So, what's your wager?"
He was finding it hard not to be caught up in her obvious amusement at his distress. He shook his head and smiled, resigned to her frivolity.
"When I win…" he paused, allowing her to register his confidence, which she did with a raised eyebrow. "…you come hunting with me tomorrow."
"I'd be happy too," she gushed.
"You sure you're up to it?"
"Of course!" she insisted.
"OK then. Let's do this."
He let Lilith throw first, then he followed and won the first round. Lilith won the second and third round, and by this point, she was practically dancing with excitement. This was the first time he had seen her looking happy, her face lit up with a rare genuine smile.
Daryl won the fourth round, and her bravado immediately died down. He let her throw first for the final round. She stared at her target intently. He watched as her right hand unconsciously checked that she had the knife held in the right place, that she had the centre of its balance. She drew her arm back, and keeping her elbow and wrist perfect lined up, she released the blade which flew the twenty paces to the target and wedged itself in with a perfect bulls-eye.
"Yes!" she cheered.
He suppressed another smile. "You haven't won yet, darlin'," he reminded her. "I still got my final throw."
"Ah! But you can't win. You can't beat my perfect bulls-eye. You can match it, and we'll call it a draw. You don't match it… I win," she said with a suggestive wiggle of eyebrows.
"Jeez…" he chuckled quietly.
He took a deep breath. He focused on the bulls-eye. Like Lilith had done moments before, he tested the weight and balance of the knife before lifting his arm to throw. Just as he was about release the knife, Lilith started pulling at the front of her vest to fan cool hair on to her face and neck. It also flashed more of her cleavage, and images of her breasts pushed together when she had folded her arms earlier came to his mind. He briefly lost his focus. He quickly recovered but it was too late as he had already committed to the throw. The knife bounced impotently off the target.
"Motherfucker!" he exclaimed loudly, exasperated.
Lilith on the other hand, was whooping and cheering. All her noise was getting the walkers by the fence agitated.
"Hey, hey… keep it down. You're getting them worked up," he admonished her gently.
"Sorry, sorry," she gushed quietly. Still giggling, and looking immensely pleased, she said, "So, do I get my hug now?"
"Goddamn it, woman."
"Hey! A bet is a bet." She said, her eyes narrowed in scorn. They quickly softened, and she added, "We can haggle over the length of hug if you like. How about thirty seconds?"
"Thirty seconds? In some countries that would probably mean we're married," he complained.
Her laughter started again, causing another raise in the volume of hissing from the ever-present walkers. "Three seconds," he bargained.
"Fifteen!"
He sighed. "Five."
"Done," she said cheerfully, and held out a hand to shake on it.
He shook her hand, shaking his head. "So… when do we have to do this hug?"
She held out her arms and shrugged. "Now?"
He sighed heavily, then immediately regretted it. He didn’t want to offend her. "Come on then," he said, stepping forward, and awkwardly putting his arms around her shoulders. He felt her arms clasp gently around his waist. She rested her head on his chest, and he found himself automatically resting his chin on top of her head. He could smell the soap she had used to clean her hair, and the soft rise of her breast pressing into his chest as she breathed.
Her arms increased their grip, and she clung to him tighter. The strength of her embrace surprised him, like someone drowning clinging to a life raft.
"Time's up," he said, and gently extricated himself from her grip.
He looked at her face. She looked saddened, despite trying to smile. He noticed that her eyes seemed a little watery, like someone about to cry. He panicked.
"Catch you later, yeah?" He mumbled, and headed back inside, leaving her standing alone by the target, obviously in some kind of distress.
His brain was telling him to turn around, to ask her if she was OK, but every step he took, the voice got quieter and quieter.
***
He managed to keep himself busy the rest of the day, and didn’t see Lilith again. He wasn't sure if she had been deliberately avoiding him, or if he had been avoiding her.
That evening, he stood leaning against the rail, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the fence. Lilith appeared later with coffee, and she seemed in much better spirits when she handed him the cup than she had when he last saw her. She sat on the floor, in her usual spot, and drank in her usual silence.
He moved next to her, and noticed a small hint of a smile when he sat down, although her eyes never left the treeline. No mention was made of their wager, or the hug.

Over the next few days, they slipped into a comfortable routine. They would practice first thing in the morning, go about their business during the day, then Lilith would come by in the evening with coffee. Her visits got longer and longer as they became more used to each other.
One evening, Daryl was stood waiting for Lilith to visit, while trying desperately not to look like he was waiting. He had had a shower that afternoon when he got back from a hunt, because he didn’t want to smell like dead possum when she turned up.
It was getting late, and she was usually there by now. He found himself getting anxious, her absence agonisingly obvious. Eventually, he realised she wasn't coming, and so went to sleep, her face on his mind.
The next morning she arrived for practice as usual.
"'Morning," she smiled, although he could see immediately her smile wasn't genuine.
"Yes it is," he said sarcastically. He was frustrated that there was no explanation of her absence yesterday, despite knowing deep down she didn’t owe him one.
As they practiced, he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she pursed her lips hard. She seemed a little annoyed, upset even, but it didn't seem to be directed at him.
His own frustration disappeared as his concern for her grew.
"You seem distracted today," he finally commented.
"Yeah, sorry. Just stuff… and things…" her answer trailed off, incomplete.
Daryl's clumsy attempt to determine the cause of her slump was unsuccessful. Frustrated at his social ineptitude, he let the matter drop.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Salvation