Sweat rolled down your face as the sun beat down upon you harshly. The rays burned your skin that was already tinted red. But the climbing temperatures and burning environment didn't pull you away from the fence you stood in front of.

Your arms moved in a repetitive motion as you stabbed your knife through the skull of every walker touching the metal fence. With each plunge of your weapon, a low grunt escaped your throat. But it was a release. All of the anger and pain and emotion you couldn't always show or feel around the others, you could express here. You could release it here into each killing of the dead.

Walker blood coats your hands and ran up your wrists. Your cotton tank top is stained red, no longer the pale lavender color it started out as. But you don't care. You stopped caring a long time ago.

Moving forward as a groaning walker stumbles close, you raise your hand and plunge the glinting blade of your knife into its rotting skull. But as you move to slide it out, it doesn't budge. Sometimes you have to yank your weapon harder you learned over time, this happened on occasion.

But just as you begin to pull harder, a hand reaches through the fence and clutches your blood caked wrist. The hand is boney and makes your skin crawl as it's mangled flesh touches your own. Teeth chomp together as it's dead yet hunger filled eyes look straight at you. Its groans and snarls and chomps closer to you as your hand struggles to escape it's surprisingly strong hold.

But you don't give up. You can do this.

Reaching your left hand around to your back pocket you feel for the pistol you keep secured in your belt, fingers feeling along your denim jeans for the handle. But just as your fingertips graze the metal, a soft ping enters the air and the harsh grip on your hand is released.

You watch as the walker falls to the ground and you pull your arm free from the wire fence. Turning around as you catch your breath, a shadow casts over you as the person stands beside you.

Daryl Dixon.

In all his crossbow wielding, angel vest wearing, badass attitude glory. But something about seeing him right now knowing he saved you, irks you. Anger rises in place of relief and resent forms instead of gratitude.

"I had that." You snap at the redneck who slings his crossbow back over his broad shoulder. Sweat glistening over his bare and very tan arms.

"Yeah, sure as hell didn't look tha way." Daryl snips back just as rudely as you did.

Despite being involved with Daryl in more ways than one, he never failed to match your tone of annoyance or displeasure. As if proving that he could do it just as well.

"You can't keep doing this Daryl." You tell him after breathing in a deep breath.

"What? Saving your ass?" Daryl counters defensively.

"You can't keep not believing in me. I'm tired of you always being there, following me closely because you know I'll screw up somehow. Always there to fix it." You explain to him and Daryl's eyebrows furrow at your words.

"I love you, but you have to let me do things on my own. You have to let me defend myself on my own and not rely on the fact that you're always a step behind me."

"Ain't always--"

"You are!" Your voice raises slightly as you run a frustrated hand through your hair.

"Look what just happened Daryl, I was out here on my own doing just fine. And the moment things go a little south, there you are! I could've handled it myself, but you didn't give me the chance to!"

There's a part of you that feels bad for reprimanding him for just trying to protect you... But emotions you've been holding in for a while now bubble over into your words. And you need him to know what you've been feeling.

"I don't need your help all of the time, sometimes I just need to learn and fail and try again on my own."

Daryl doesn't respond. Maybe because he doesn't know how or if he should, or maybe he can't. It doesn't matter though, you still walk right on past him on your way back inside. Leaving him standing by the fence alone. And as you walk inside the prison to wash the walker blood from your body, you are taken aback by the strange feeling of knowing Daryl Dixon isn't right behind you.

                      *  *  *  *
The blood was warm on your skin as it flowed between your fingers. Hot and sticky as it soaked through his shirt and onto your hands that tried to stop the bleeding. You applied pressure to his wound as tears fell from your widened eyes, and shakey sobs escaped past your lips as panic took control of your body. But it was no use. The blood wasn't slowing down. And looking into his blue eyes... You could see the light beginning to dim.

A gasp escapes you as you shoot upward, clutching your chest for a breath. Your hands tremble as they grip the soft cotton fabric of your sleep shirt.

The room is dark, only glints of moonlight twinkle as they hit the silver of the prison bars. The cell echoes with a silence that gnaws at your stomach, and gripping the sheets closer you rest your head back down on the pillow.

As your heartbeat slowly returns to a calmer pace, you reach your hand over in the dark to feel the space beside you. The right side of the mattress that belongs to him. You need to know he's there, you need to know that what you had just seen was just a dream. A nightmare. But as your fingers feel nothing but cold and empty sheet, your body begins to panic.

Sitting up again, realization hits you as you touch his pillow that has been untouched by him tonight. Of course he wasn't here beside you... You had told him that you didn't need him.

And a sinking feeling fills your gut as the truth hits you like a slap in the face.

Swinging your legs around to the side of the bed, your bare feet hit the cold prison floor. Standing, you reach for your long cardigan before leaving the quiet cell. Wrapping the warm cotton around yourself, you venture down the hallway to the last empty cell at the end.

Reaching the entrance, you breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that your intuition was right. He was in here.

The cell was just as dark as yours, barely any moonlight to lend you sight. But even so, you can still make out his body laying beneath the single sheet on the bed. Resting soundly on his back, his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. It wasn't often that you got to see him rest. He was wide awake when you drifted off and far gone when you woke in the morning; up with the sun you liked to say.

"What is it?" His voice makes you jump as it echoes inside of the metal bars. You had seen him laying there but you couldn't see that he was still wide awake.

Swallowing a lump that had made its way into your throat, you take a step into the cell.

"I know I said that I didn't need you, that I didn't need your help or your protection. But maybe I was wrong." Your voice is raw as you speak softly into the heavy silence that clouds the cell.

"Because when I woke up from a dream I felt I couldn't escape, a dream where it felt so real I questioned if it really was, I reached my arm out to find you. But you weren't there."

Daryl sits up now, his hands clasped in his lap as he stares at you intently.

"I know its because I sent you away. I pushed you away. And I'm sorry."

Daryl shakes his head, and without a word he holds his hand out to you. Silently asking you to come to him. And without a word of your own, you accept his open hand.

His flesh is warm and rough against your own, but welcome as his arms wrap around you as he lays you down beside him on the mattress. His face inches from yours as you share the only pillow, and his eyes are the brightest light in the room now. Bold blue that comforts you instantly.

"I've pushed you away a time or two of my own, ain't nothing you got to be sorry for."

His breath tickles your cheek as he speaks in a low voice, and you smile softly at his words.

"Maybe I've been spending too much time around you. Your stubbornness and your "I can do it on my own" attitude is rubbing off on me." You whisper teasingly, and the edges of his lips twitch as they begin to slowly curve upward into a beautiful smile.

Gazing at Daryl with a smile of your own, you are slightly startled when his right hand moves to cup your face gently.

"Want you to know that I do believe in you. Always have."

Pursing your lips as tears burn your eyes, you lean forward. Brushing your lips against his own, you whisper softly to him. "I love you."

Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he brings you into his chest. Trapping you in his warm embrace.

"Sleep," Daryl tells you. "I'll keep the bad dreams away."

You weren't sure if that was really possible. If Daryl could truly keep all fears and troubles away from you and your mind as you slept. But as you began to fall deeper into a peaceful slumber, you found you didn't care if you could prove it to be possible. You knew Daryl Dixon would find a way.

He would always find a way to keep you safe and protected.

A/N: It took me a while to write this one, I'm not sure why. But I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you all like it too! Also, today I celebrate 2 years with this account and I can't thank you all enough for the endless support!💕