CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN,
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"HOLD THE LIGHT a little higher, please." Samantha held the flashlight basically up to the Heavens, the cramp in her arm worsening. Dale glanced at her from the RV engine with a amused look.

"Having fun there, kiddo?" He chuckled.

"Having a blast," She drawled. "Dale, i've told you this before, what both you and this RV need is-"

"-needed retirement," He finished with his lips curling upwards. "You know, after a joke is used too many times, it tends to become less funny."

Samantha grinned cheekily. "Still made you smile though."

A car door slammed shut and both Samantha and Dale turned. Rick and Shane had placed Randall in the trunk of the SUV, getting ready to leave to drop him off.

"Heading out?" Dale called to them.

Rick nodded. Something about his whole demeanor was off, it wasn't very Rick Grimes.

"Yeah, if everything goes well we should be back in an hour," The sheriff said. "You think you can hold the fort while we're gone?"

Dale nodded, the smile on his face never ceasing from his kind features. "I might look old, but my fight is quite ugly."

"As ugly as that hat?" Samantha snickered.

Despite the two laughing, it didn't meet Rick's eyes and she resisted a frown, knowing something wasn't right. "You sure you don't want anymore hands?" Samantha pressed.

Rick tried to disguise everything with an assuring smile. "I'll see you when I get back." He patted her shoulder before turning and walking towards the vehicle.

Samantha met her brother's eyes, and she sent him a wave to which he barely returned.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the two men get into the car and drive away. "That was strange," She voiced her thoughts. "Shane is never that distant with his goodbyes."

"It's because of me," Dale said lowly. "He doesn't like me that much."

"How can any one dislike you?" Samantha exclaimed. "You're basically Gandalf."

Dale rose a brow. "Are you calling me old?"

"Wise." She corrected.

"Unfortunately Shane doesn't think that."

Samantha knew about Shane and Dale's differences, but she didn't think it was that bad. They were just two people that wanted to survive the world, but had different ways of doing so. Maybe that was the problem.

Dale was saying something, but her mind was drifting off to the weird atmosphere surrounding Shane and Rick. The tensity was as thick as blood.

Is that why Rick didn't want me to help? Is that why he was so hellbent on being alone with her brother? Was it because of the shit that has been happening lately?

Samantha wanted to help around, but not just with the camp but with their straining friendship. She adored the two best friends, and that thought of them being at odds caused lines to appear on her forehead and her anxiety to build in her chest.

Dale noticed the stress, his gaze being filled with concern. "Samantha." She jolted away from her thoughts and forced a painful smile.

"Sorry, never had a dad to teach me how to hold a flashlight." Dale made an uh-huh noise, not buying into her bullshit.

"You looked like you were a million miles away," Dale observed. "You ever thought about taking a break?"

Samantha scoffed at the suggestion. "I don't help out with the group as much as it is."

"You do the best you can," Dale paused for a moment, face screwed together in thinking. "You ever thought about hunting? Winter is coming, so it wouldn't hurt if we had some extra meat."

The idea of finding sanctuary away from her problems felt so desirable. "I don't know much about huntin'." She sighed

Dale chuckled. "That's the point of practice, Sammy," He took a rag and wiped at the grime on his hands. "I don't want you to come back without an animal either."

"But Dale-"

"No buts," He held up a finger. "I believe in you."

With that Dale closed the hood of his RV and walked inside, leaving Samantha in the growing sunlight that slowly fell over the farmland.

━━━━━

"So, penny for your thoughts, soldier?"

Nathan glanced down and saw Andrea Harrison making her way up the RV. He shrugged, adjusting the rifle in his hands. "Nothin', just enjoying the view." He lied almost flawlessly.

Nathan was always thinking. His mind was broken record that replayed his countless thoughts and anxieties over and over again. Before, he was worried about Otis and Sam. His new target was a grieving mother.

"Amy always avoided eye contact when she would lie too," Andrea stayed, making herself comfy next to him. "What's up?"

Nathan sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. "Carol."

Andrea nodded, understanding etched on her pretty features. "Can't hold that grief forever, it'll kill you," She said. "You don't deserve that."

"Sophia didn't deserve that either," Andrea opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. "Every time I see Carol I see my mistake, but I deserve that and her hatred."

Nathan has been avoiding Carol all week, but even if he did he could still feel her stares burning holes into the back of his head. He knew she blamed him for Sophia's death, and he fully accepted it. He wasn't going to be one of the people who doesn't accept full responsibility. Nathan was taught that not accepting your mistakes delays your growth and you can never learn from them.

Mistakes are painful lessons that will haunt you until they are accepted as what they are.

Andrea gazed over the farmland. "She needs to put the blame on something, it's a part of our shitty human nature. She can't hate you forever."

Nathan shrugged. "Wouldn't blame her if she did." He murmured.

Andrea frowned, her blue eyes that reminded Nathan so much of Amy. They both have similarities in their eyes but so many differences. The blue was the same, but Andrea's was intertwined with grey, as if God couldn't decide which one to give her in the end.

"Nate!" The brunette looked over his shoulder and saw Lori jogging towards them frantically.

"What's going on? You okay?" He demanded, immediately standing up from his seat.

"Have you seen Hershel or Maggie?"

Nathan dug through his memories and remembered he saw the two lovebirds walking by not that long ago. At least someone is getting laid. "Maggie is with Glenn," He replied. "Dunno where Hershel is though."

"Could you find her for me?" She asked. "I gotta get back to the house-"

"What's going on?" Andrea was just as confused as Nathan.

Lori inhaled sharply. "It's Beth." That's all they needed to hear to know what exactly was happening. The teenager was going through a phase of depression.

Nathan didn't even know if he should exactly call depression a phase, because he knew it was more than that. Depression was a hazardous thing that can leave for one moment, and bite you in the ass the next. It never truly leaves a person, sticking by them like a looming shadow and ready to infect the person the next like a disease. Depression was the rotting of the mind and the rotting of the soul. Poor Beth Greene was going through that, and he knew what that Hell felt like.

"Nobody deserves to go through that." Nathan stated, watching as Lori ran back to the house.

"Nobody deserves to not be given a choice." Andrea retorted.

Nathan looked at Andrea dubiously, trying to make sure he heard her right. The blonde noticed the look and threw up her hands in defense. "Beth needs to make her own choice. She knows from right from wrong." She tried to reason.

Nathan still wasn't impressed. "She's just a kid." He stated.

"A kid who doesn't know how to deal with the pain," Andrea countered. "She just lost her mother and learned how terrible the world is in one day. That's a lot to pack in."

"She's just a kid." Nathan repeated, still appalled.

"Look, Nate, if given the choice I'm sure she won't kill herself," The blonde continued. "She'll come around, but she needs to be trusted to have options, especially in this world."

"You wouldn't have came around if it weren't for Dale."

Andrea was quiet momentarily, as if trying to find an answer to that. "I'm just saying that she needs to find ways to deal with the pain-"

"By killing herself?" Nathan snapped, feeling the blood boil in his body. "You tell that to her fucking sister."

Guilt shadowed her eyes, but Nathan she was guilty for all the wrong reasons."Nate-"

He shut her up by shoving the rifle in her hands, his gray eyes narrowing and darkening with a storm.

"You're being such a hypocrite right now, because I damn well know that if it were Amy, you wouldn't give her the choice."

A look of hurt paired with grief washed over Andrea's features, and despite the little twinge of guilt he didn't give her the time of day. Amy would've said the same exact thing, he knows she would've.

Stalking down the ladder, he headed towards the farmhouse with a ticking muscle in his jaw.

━━━━━

Samantha could tell that winter was approaching by the way the leaves from the trees decayed and fell from the branches, halfway in the process of giving the plant a skeletal like appearance. She averted her eyes to the ground and kept them there, hopelessly trying to find tracks but with her lack of skills, she was pretty shitty at it.

Despite the irritation that fluttered inside her, the peace and the quiet of nature that surrounded her kept it from blossoming. It was blissful compared to the air at the camp - and that's saying something, because Samantha simply hates silence.

Not this time, though.

The tensions between the survivors at the camp was not an invisible creature. It grew and fed everyday and it sometimes became almost too suffocating to bear. Samantha had already gone through the petty high school drama, and she refused to go through it again.

Her mind was elsewhere when she heard the sound of a twig snapping. All thoughts were silenced and her senses went on high alert, crouching to the ground with her dagger gripped in her hand. Samantha didn't have a crossbow or anything - and her gun was definitely a no go, so her dagger had to make do. She wasn't perfect at throwing it, but with years of going on camping trips, especially with getting bored during those trips and just mindlessly throwing them at a tree, she's learned how to have a slightly good aim.

Her eyes darted at all directions until she finally found a source. A small, fuzzy squirrel had come around the corner and was glancing all around. Samantha stood still, eying the creature carefully.

She hated killing things, especially small, innocent creatures - but she had to learn to become accustomed sooner or later because killing things to survive was going to become a regular routine. Either to kill in order to eat them or to just live another day, it all applies.

She raised her arm, the squirrel moving up the bark of the tree and-

An arrow flew right past Samantha and pierced the small animal. A gasp fell from her lips as the squirrel made a final noise before falling still. She whirled around quickly, surprised at herself for being more angry than scared. Who the fuck stole my kill-

"Dixon." His name rolled off her tongue and dripped with frustration and...surprise.

His mossy blues never met her own. In fact, he completely ignored Samantha's existence and walked past her, grabbing the dead animal and yanking his arrow out of it.

For the past week, Daryl had set up a routine of avoiding the twenty year old, and for the past week she had let it slide. However, something within her at that moment felt otherwise. Why should she be the one getting the cold shoulder? He was the one being the asshole.

"Hey!" Samantha stomped towards him like a defiant, angry child. "That's mine!" He glanced at the dead squirrel and then back at her, his eyes flickering up and down. "Don't see ya name on it."

Samantha narrowed her eyes, ignoring the ache under her clothes. The purplish bruise still flawed her delicate flesh, and unfortunately it would be there for a few more days, an embarrassing reminder of what happened that day. Luckily, her brother or anybody else hasn't seen it. "That was still mine, I was huntin' it-"

"You weren't huntin' it," He interrupted gruffly. "You ain't got the slightest clue of how to track."

He wasn't wrong about that, but Samantha wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it. On the other hand, she was very aware that fighting over a squirrel was childish. Daryl Dixon however, had the power to restrain any maturity from reaching her brain.

"You don't know me - hey!" In the mid of her, sentence Daryl had turned away and begin to walk in another direction. "You don't know jackshit about me," Samantha insisted, the week long anger that she kept for the redneck bleeding through her words. "I'm nothing more than a stupid, reckless bitch. Remember?"

Daryl's disregard of het presence deepened her pettiness and anger. Samantha felt something within herself stir, a familiar chain of impulses that rising up from her throat like word vomit.

"Pieces of shit really do run in the family, huh?"

Daryl did a whole 360, revealing his heavily clenched jaw and a glare as hard as stone. Samantha clearly had touched a nerve.

" 'cuse me?"

His words spat out like venom, but she had become immune to his sting. Samantha advanced him until their chests were nearly touching, green and blue clashing against one another like waves on rocks during a storm. His hot breath fanned against her face, his tall stance intimidating her petite form but she kept her chin up.

Samantha made her eyes cold and unwelcoming as well, trying to make the taste of his medicine as familiar and as harsh as his was to her. "You heard me." She hissed with challenge.

Daryl's eyes went small. "You better watch ya mouth, sunshine," He spat, the anger that roared from within him making his southern twang grow strong. "You don't know shit about me."

Her mocking smile reminded him of Shane Walsh. "Glad we're on the same page, Daryl." The way his last name rolled off her tongue was like daggers, and he was used to her saying it so differently than any other people - not this, this was alien.

His burning expression fueled her own fire, a fire too large that it blinded her from the danger that trudged behind her. She was too busy noticing the way their chests were almost touching, that their heart beats were almost in synced - but Daryl saw, and his eyes trailed from her face and went behind her.

With a quick rush of adrenaline coursing through him he shoved Samantha away and she fell to the ground, dirt getting caught in her throat and she coughed, watching as he ended a walkers life before it had a chance to end hers.

Realization struck her and he muttered a curse, yanking his arrow out of the corpse. He had saved her again, even after the hurtful thing she had said - did Daryl truly not hate her as much as she thought?

Samantha never got the chance to find out.

A snarl met their ears and the two turned. The dead stumbled through the trees in a pack, the sight of them making Daryl immediately grab a shocked Samantha by her forearm and roughly bring her from the ground. "Go!" He snapped, and they did.

━━━━━

The awkward silence was agonizing and way after Andrea had left the house. Nathan had been the bystander between the fight between Lori and the blonde, taking no sides when he had been asked to.

He secretly agreed with Andrea.

Something about Lori nagged him. Not only was she being hypocritical and just a downright bitch, but she knew things that she didn't think he knew.
If that didn't make Nathan disgusted by her, it was the words she used as a counter argument against Andrea - they simply pierced his skin.

"I can't believe her..." Her mumble reached his ears. She was facing the kitchen window, but he could sense the sour expression on her face.

"Can never win with a lawyer." Nathan shrugged.

"She barely contributes and it's hard enough as it is," Lori ranted. "The men don't need her. They have everything under control."

What the hell? Are we back in the fifties?

If the men had everything under control, less blood would've been shed back at the camp. Hell, maybe Amy wouldn't been still alive - maybe Jim.

"Wouldn't it make sense if everyone learned how to defend themselves against external threats?" Natan questioned, trying to keep his cool facade but she was slowly pushing him over the edge - a familiar place that birthed his outbursts mx

"But somebody needs to do the housework too-"

"If the housework was such a problem, then you should ask the men do their fair share of work too." Natan suggested, a biting edge of annoyance to his tone. He didn't like laundry, but he will do it if extra help was needed. Years of having an extremely OCD mother, he knew how to cook and clean.

"But-"

The thin twig that he called his patience had finally snapped. "I'm sick of you bashing her. Who made you the first lady?" Nate sneered, glaring at the older woman. "You couldn't even drive a car without even crashing it."

Lori turned to look at him with eyes widened in outrage. "You don't know anything."

"Oh, I think I know enough," Nathan corrected swiftly. "Andrea has done her fair share of work while you were off sleeping with your husband's best friend,"

Lori was completely speechless, his words a slap to his face - but his slap wasn't enough.

"I bet you don't even know who the father of that baby is," He continued, digging the blow deeper. "So next time you decide to point out people's mistakes, make sure you're goddamn perfect."

Silence.

Nathan could see the gears in her head turning, trying to find a response to win the argument, but could find none. Nathan shamelessly felt a wave of satisfaction, but as quickly as he felt it, it was taken away by the shouts of Maggie Greene.

Forgetting their argument, the two adults didn't hesitant to come to her air. Once they got there, they saw Maggie pounding at the door that appeared locked from the inside. His stomach dropped when he heard Beth sobbing on the other side.

"Don't do this, Beth. Don't do this," Maggie pleaded desperately. "I'm not mad. I'm not mad."

Beth, please open up."

Maggie scurried to the dresser and begin to search it frantically. "God, I left her with Andrea!"

Nathan and Lori exchanged knowing glances. That was Maggie's biggest mistake and she didn't even know it yet.

An light bulb lit up in Nathan's head and he backed away from the door. "Move outta the way!"

Once the two women obliged, he used all the strength and muscle in his leg and brought it up to the door. It flew open, and Beth let out a strangled gasp before swirling around. Nathan's throat went dry at the sight of the blood staining her skin from the slits on her wrist.

They were right on time.

"I'm so sorry!" She sobbed. Maggie hurried to her little sister's side, and cradled her bleeding wrist in her hands. Nathan would've sighed in relief, but the burning in Maggie's eyes kept him from doing so.

━━━━━

Stopping for air didn't help the burn in his lungs nor the sweat that layered his skin. Samantha stood next to him, and Daryl was kinda curious and maybe even a little envious on the fact that she hasnt even broken a sweat.

"Maybe we can take them out." She suggested, leaning against a tree.

Daryl had already thought about doing so but there was far too many.

"Can't take 'em many out with just arrows and knives." He stated, wiping his brow. He could hear the walkers getting closer from behind them.

Samantha simply nodded to his surprise. She must've used the last bit of fight in her on him, and damn she used it good.

"Pieces of shit really do run in the family, huh?"

Daryl internally scoffed, but deep down he knew it had made him feel some type of way. He always thought that when he died, that would be written on his tombstone, because ever since he was a boy his father made sure to beat it into him that he was the 'piece of shit that wasted precious air'.

"There's a cabin not that shouldn't be far from here," Samantha's voice was brought to his ears. "Jimmy said it used to belong to their neighbors. We can wait them out."

Despite hating the fact that he had to pussy his way out of the situation, he silently agreed. Waiting it out was the best option for now.

Picking up his crossbow from the ground, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise once he saw the dead emerging from behind them. There was a group of them - maybe ten. When he turned back, Samantha had already taken off running.

Fast bitch.

Daryl tried to follow her without making it seem like he was struggling, but the humidity made it hard for him. His clothing and hair, slick with perspiration, clung to his skin. He could feel his heart throbbing in his chest, his throat screaming. He wanted to badly rest, but the danger behind them basically fueled him to keep going.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the tree line broke and they had entered a clearing. In the middle of it was a cabin. Daryl didn't have time to study it as he ran towards the entrance.

Samantha was already there and she had it open, waiting for him. He basically flung himself inside, watching as she slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Help me move the couch!"

His whole body ached as he stood up, going to one end of the couch. Together they pushed the large piece of furniture towards the door. Once finished, Daryl's senses went on alert after he could hear the faint sounds of walkers.

He wasn't a very religious man - hell, maybe he didn't even believe in God, but Daryl prayed. He prayed that the walkers wouldn't know they were there.

As if Samantha sensed his worries, she assured him, "I don't think they know where we are."

In response to this, he ignored her and faced away.

They stood near the door and waited. They heard the sounds of the dead on the other side, but made no attempts to enter the cabin.

He heard Samantha release a sigh of relief, rubbing her head.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her wordlessly lay on the floor. Even after her eyes closed, he found himself continuing to watch her subconsciously.

Daryl, for a moment, observed the way her chest heaved up and down gently, small breaths leaving her slightly parted lips. Samantha looked peaceful and - less aggravating.

As if he wasn't creepy enough, his eyes scanned down from her face, and to the tattoos on her arm, which caressed her skin in dark ink. It's designed curved from her lower arm to her shoulders, forming what looked to be tribal symbols.

Daryl always had a thing for tattoos.

"Fuck." Daryl muttered, rubbing his face. Stop being a pussy.

The redneck looked to the door. He should keep watch, but his bones told him otherwise. If the walkers didn't know they were in there, it wouldn't hurt to rest just for a minute.

Laying himself down next to her, both of their breaths synced together as they silently listened to the outside world.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote

daryl dixon likes tattoos and that's canon and no one can tell me otherwise

words ; 3049
edited ; ✔️