Chapter Twenty-Eight: Exploring

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•twenty-eight•

Beatrix

"You can't drive all night," I sigh, crossing my arms. "You need to sleep. Just let me drive."

"I'm not lettin' ya drive my bike, Trixy," Daryl shakes his head as he inhales the smoke from a cigarette.

"Well I'm not letting you stay up all night," I argue. "It's dangerous and not healthy at all. Get your sleep and let me drive. I promise I know how to."

"Don't need to sleep," he grunts and pushes off the tree he's been leaning against, tossing his cigarette onto the ground.

We're currently stopped beside of the road, letting everyone take a break from driving and sitting down for so long. It's probably around four in the morning, and we've been driving since eight in the evening, still not really having a destination. Rick has just been leading, driving wherever he feels like driving. Now, all of the drivers are rotating so that they can get some sleep. All of them except for Daryl, of course, because he won't let up.

"Yes you do!" I exclaim, walking behind him back toward the bike. "Daryl, please. I don't want you to fall asleep while you're driving and kill us both. I've been asleep, and I'm good to go. Rick said we were stopping in about two hours anyway."

"All right," he mumbles, finally agreeing as he looks into my eyes. I can clearly tell that he's sleepy— his pupils are glazed over and bloodshot. He's probably been sleep deprived for days.

"Thank you," I faintly smile before pressing my lips to his in a light kiss.

"Everyone, let's roll out!" Rick yells from the front car before getting into the passenger seat as he starts the engine. I believe he's letting Merle drive while he sleeps, which is surprising. He used to hate Merle.

"Just do what I do," I say to Daryl as I start up the bike, and he awkwardly wraps his arms around my waist. "Lay your head on my back, and go to sleep. You need it."

"I will," he says, yawning.

Daryl makes sure I'm good driving before he finally lays his head down. I swerved a little at first—a motorcycle with someone on the back is literally nothing like driving a bike or a car— but I got the hang of it. After a few minutes, I can feel his arms go limp, and I can hear him snoring.

///

"Psst, wake up," I whisper, poking Daryl's face. "Merle found us a place to stay."

"Merle what?" He questions, raising up to look around us.

"He said he knew this place before the turn," I explain, gesturing to the three-story hotel in front of us. "Said this is where he always had business meetings."

"Business meetings my ass," Daryl scoffs as he lightly pushes on my side, wanting me to get off of the bike, which I do, so that he can get off too.

"Can I ask you something?" I look to Daryl as he observes everyone packing their things inside. He nods, so I continue, "Was he on drugs before?"

"Mhm," he nods, keeping his answer short.

"I can tell. Not that he's acting weird or anything, but doctors just know. We're trained to look for the signs," I explain. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Ya just did," he lets the smallest hint of a smile tug at his lips.

"You know what I mean," I smile back, rolling my eyes before I turn my facial expression to serious. "Why did he do that? Does it have something to do with your scars?"

Zedler, M.D. // Daryl DixonWhere stories live. Discover now