The prison bustled with life as the hot Georgia sun beat down on Daryl's neck. He was loading his bike with enough supplies to last him a couple of days. Rick had gotten a good lead on an underground bunker from one of the Woodbury residents. Apparently some man who had predicted the end of the world who should have enough supplies to last good while.

"Promise you'll be safe pookie?" Carol's voice sounded from behind him.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes at her nickname. "Always am. Ain't no big deal, just a normal run."

She eyed him with worry but nodded. "You can still bring someone along. You don't always have to do things on your own."

Daryl stood to his full height, done loading his things. He knew Carol cared and it felt nice to have a friend to be able to rely on. "I know," was all he said before nodding to her and straddling his bike.

She gave him a small wave before he started the engine and began route to the house circled on his map.
-
By the time Daryl stopped in front of the modest farm house, the sun had begun to set. He stopped his bike, grabbing his crossbow and loading it before venturing near the house. The door was locked and when he tapped his bow on the window no walkers came to the glass.

He walked the whole perimeter of the spacious land, finally spotting a metal latch hidden under some debris. He bent down reaching for the handle but froze at the sound of a gun cocking.

"Step away from the hatch and put your weapons down." A gravelly voice spoke from behind him.

Daryl set his bow down, raising his hands above his head as he slowly turned around. Rick made it clear that he didn't want to kill anyone who may be living here, but instead invite them to the prison in hopes they would share their supplies.

The man that came into view looked rough, scratches covering his arms and hair greasy and unkempt. Maybe he wasn't as well off as his group thought.

"I ain't lookin' for trouble. Just came ta' talk." Daryl spoke, eyeing the man with caution.

"Nothing to talk about!" He snapped, pointing his gun to his chest and snarling. "You want what I have and you'll have to take it from my cold, dead hands. She's mine."

She? What the hell was this guy talking about? He shook away those thoughts and focused on the gun resting against his pecks. Obviously the man was unstable.

"Alright. Ain't nothing gotta happen. I'll leave." Daryl said before slowly moving backwards to pick up his crossbow.

Before he could stand back up the man had shot his gun, hitting him in the shoulder. Daryl acted quickly, bringing up his bow and putting a bolt in the man's head.

"Fuck," he muttered, falling back onto the grass and assessing his wound. Just a graze but still in need of medical treatment.

His eyes wandered to the metal hatch and he tore off a sleeve to wrap his wound before opening it up and climbing inside.
-
A gunshot. God, you hadn't heard gunshots in months. Your H/C hair fell in your face as you ran to the edge of your small room and grabbed the wooden stake you had carved days earlier.

Your name was F/N L/N and you had been abducted by a deranged man when you were 18. You had been holed away in some bunker for three years, fearing each day that you were forced to live. You got one meal a day, one shower a week, and no time outside of your small living space.

The days of praying for the cops to finally catch this son of a bitch were over. As far as you were concerned, you didn't want to live anymore. You decided the next time Bram, your captor, walked through that door you would end him or die trying.

So of course the gunshot was a surprise. Was there finally someone coming to save you? No that would be impossible. Maybe he shot an animal that had made its way on his land. It had happened before, but the sound of the hatch being opened set your blood on fire. This was it.

You positioned yourself behind the door, ready to sink your weapon into Bram's neck when he walked in. Foot steps could be heard landing on the main level and stalking towards you. They sounded lighter than usual but you gripped the steak even tighter in anticipation.

It didn't take long for the lock to rattle and the door to swing open. You held your breath as a figure stepped through the doors threshold and lunged yourself on them.

"You son of a bitch!" You cried in anger, tackling him to the ground.

The weapon in your hands stopped just centimeters away from the man's chest as your eyes met baby blues. This man was in no shape or form the one who had tormented you for years. He seemed to be in awe of you as your lips were drawn back in a snarl.

"W-who are you?" You panted out, face hovering over his as you straddled him on the floor, weapon in hand.

He let out a breath before murmuring "Daryl."

Your eyes roamed his features, examining every freckle on the first new face you'd seen in a long time. "Is he gone?" You whispered, loosening your grip on the wood and watching for his response.

The man, Daryl, shook his head yes and you smiled, throwing yourself onto him and embracing his arms tightly.

"Thank you! Thank you! You're like my angel. Did you bring the police? I need to have them drive me to my parents." You pulled away slightly, noticing the small drops of blood that fell to the floor from the mans arm.

He looked at you with confusion and pushed himself up, you still sitting in his lap. "What the fuck you talkin' about? Ain't no police anymore."

His rugged voice sent shiver down your spine and you looked over him with horror. You slowly started to realize that he looked grimy and underfed. His clothes were torn and worn down.

"I don't understand." You said, eyes wide with fear and confusion as the man grunted and shifted you off of him.

"How long you been down here?" Daryl asked, eyes fearing the answer.

"At least three years..." you sat on the ground in the black nightgown Bram always made you wear and looked up to your savior with wide eyes.

"Damn girl." He pushed his hands through his hair and picked up a crossbow that had fallen during their fight. "You haven't been outside? Haven't heard the news?"

Your anger rose as you stood and stared defiantly at him. "You really think I had a choice in that matter?! I've been locked in this godforsaken bunker for years and your question is have I heard the news?"

You let out a frustrated scream and pushed him aside, stomping towards the exit and climbing the ladder to freedom. As your eyes adjusted to the setting sun you notices something very wrong. Figures roaming the farmland, people stumbling around and moaning in pain. Before you could scream again strong hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into your own personal hell.