Never Let Go (Daryl Dixon)

Captain

A/N Hey guys! So towards the end of this chapter is gonna be more about Daryl. The beginning is going to focus on Carl(Cuz I just ❤️ him) Thanks for reading!

On my way back to the room, I see the door to Rick's open, not all the way, but enough to see inside. Carl's sitting in the floor, rummaging through a bookshelf. He slouches back, sighing in frustration. I open the door, a little more to get inside. "Hey" I say, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. "Hey." He says with no life. "You sound frustrated, whatcha lookin' for?" (Yes, sorry I forgot to mention that she has a slight southern accent.) "A comic book." I turn my attention to the shelf, digging through the piles of books. They all consist of either picture or chapter books. Old chapter books, I can tell by the yellowing of the pages. I can see some of the books starting to fall toward the back of the wooden shelf. I stretch my hand back, my finger tips making contact with a thin-sized book. Putting it between my index and middle finger, it slides out. "Just in luck, the Hulk." I smile. "Thanks!" He holds it in his hands with delight.

"So you like superheroes?" I ask.

"Yeah, especially Avengers." He says.

"You know what would be really cool?"

He nods his head, his eyebrows furrowed. "If we could have like Captain America helping us fight the walkers."

He giggles. "Captain Americas my favorite!"

"With his shield, he could just take off their heads. And it comes right back to him."

"Hulk would be the best. He could just stomp on them."

I smile, and nod towards the book. "Let's see what you got there."

"Ok." He starts reading it aloud. Soon, we're both laughing hysterically, imagining walkers and our friends in these situations. How can I not laugh when Carl puts the image of Daryl in tights in my mind. "Scarlet?" He pauses. "Do you think this will ever end?" "Honestly I don't know. Your a smart boy and you don't deserve to be lied to. But that doesn't mean we can't have fun." I smile. "Thanks again." He says. I ruffle the top of his hair, saying "No problem." It's then that Lori steps into the room. "Carl it's time for bed." I stand up, smoothing the bottom no of my shirt. "Goodnight Captain." I smirk. He returns my look as I exit.

The lights are now off in the hallway, leaving an empty, ominous feeling. I can't wait to get back in the room. Inside Daryl sits slouched against the bed. "Hey Sunshine, you never gave that back." He says referring to the whisky. I drop it in his hands, practically falling onto the bed. I settle in making my self comfy. Daryl just sits there drinking away, me imaging his thoughts. For awhile I just toss and turn, trying to fall asleep but failing . I turn on my left side, facing the door of the room. Daryl looks back at me. "Can't sleep?" I shake my head. I swing my legs over touching the tips of my bare toes to the ground. My final position sitting with my legs out on the side of Daryl. I glance over at him.

"Can I have some of that?"

"Don't ya think you've had enough?"

"Your a fine one to talk Redneck."

"Redneck? Who you calling Redneck?"

"Actually I consider myself a redneck, so that's a complement."

"Farmers Daughter?"

I nod." But not the stereotypical type. With their sundresses and gardens. I was down in the dirt. Huntin' animals, arguin' with grown men to get off our property."

For a few minutes, we sit exchanging glances, and sips from the glass bottle. I contemplate in telling this next story. "Did I ever tell you why I've never drank?" He shakes his head. I begin my story. "My dad, he was an alcoholic. He was a great guy when he was sober but when he was drunk? Forget it." I tell him the many stories of how my dad abused me and my mom while he was drunk. How he couldn't remember a thing after he was out of his drunken state. "Then he gave me this." I lift up the left side of my shirt, revealing  the thin scar below my belly button. "He was sitting in his armchair, holding his flask. I asked him why he was still drinking. He told me to mind my own business, then he shoved me into the table." Daryl just looks at me, I can see the sorrow of his own scars in his face. They may not be visible but I can tell they're there. I rest my head on his shoulder, my face almost in the crook of his neck. He doesn't move. Not even the slightest bit.  "But now I'm here. And I feel safer than I've ever been."