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redcoralpot · 9 months

Note

Can you do Daryl finding out reader is trans? Early season 4, perhaps? :3

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM Reader

Your wish is my command!!

Warnings: Gore, murder, violence, blood, cussing, mentions of transphobia and death, and addictions.

Word Count: 2.6K

You eagerly join in on the medical supply run, despite the group's awful luck. A confession from Bob has you feeling quite guilty about a personal matter...

It was dead.

You threw the car battery to the side, sick of the luck your supply group had. Daryl was on the other side of the room, shuffling through drawers in an attempt to obtain the right part. For an auto repair shop, it was horribly disorganized.

“Got anything?” you called over, impatient.

A grin took over your face as he tossed the find at you, catching it in a firm grip, “Nah.”

The car was not in terrible shape, not really. Some rust here and there, with paint scratched off from long road adventures before the outbreak. Your father had a similar car when you were just a child, and he was insistent that he passed on his knowledge, despite your mother’s constant objections. It was not fit for someone like you; that your hands should never be calloused from the tough ground nor covered in grease, she said. He always ended up laughing in her face.

So as he would have it, the two of you got in all sorts of trouble. Hijacking cars, picking locks, prying cabinets open with a pocket knife; all things he said would come in handy one day. Daryl seemed like he had the same type of upbringing, all rough and tumble, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him. That, or he was just really damn good with surviving.

Daryl’s footsteps creaked as he led the way out of the building, shining his flashlight on any possible threats around. Someone had to, as you weren’t keen to look after Bob found an old walker stuck under a desk, ending that misery. It was the only one left. One by one, you circled out of the building, with Bob’s silent trepidation behind you as you arrived back at the car. Daryl opened its hood again, and you both set to work.

His voice was muffled around his cigarette, “You never told us about the group you were with, before.”

You glanced up as Bob replied, “Which one?”

“You know,” he continued, when Daryl gave him a look, “when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking.”

“Why’s that?’

“I was done being a witness. It happened two times, two different groups.”

…

“I was the last one standing, like God intended for me to see it over and over; a curse,” he shook his head, pursing his lips, “but, when it’s just you out there with the quiet, I used to drink a bottle of just 'bout anything just so I could sleep at night.”

“The run to the big spot, I only did it for me.”

You froze, a jug of clear liquid still in your hands. Daryl took it from you, completely unfazed, and managed to get a swig out of it.

He licked his lips, “You gotta keep busy somehow.”

“No, I did it so I could get me a bottle, a bottle of anything. That’s what got Zack killed.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daryl peered at him, “why don’t you get in there and try the engine? Should be the red and green wires, it ain’t rocket science.”

Even as Bob walked away, you stayed silent. Your fingers burned as you rigged the working car battery back in, but never as much as your thoughts. The other man nudged you, urging you to take your hands off as the engine roared in front of you. He clapped his hands and brought them up to his mouth; a sharp whistle rang through the air. Bob’s alcohol troubles seemed to be forgotten by Daryl, since he gave you a rusty smile while you slammed down the hood.

“Nobody coulda’ known, and you ain’t gonna be standing alone. Not anymore,” he reassured Bob.

You huffed, swinging a few plastic bags of gas in the back seats, ducking to join them. Tyreese and Michonne got the rest and the three of you squeezed together with the luggage, closing the door. With that, you left the burdensome place behind.

The ride to the college was short, but Bob still parked a little ways out, and the group set off to walk the rest of the distance. You passed most of the buildings on campus; dull brick that plants jumped at the opportunity to outgrow after a year of inactivity.

“Looks like the building we want is up ahead,” Tyreese stated.

For the first time since Bob’s confession, you spoke, “Are we splitting up? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Is that safe?” Michonne questioned, and Daryl eyed you.

“I know I can cover myself, if I end up alone.”

The brunette scoffed, and you shifted a glare at him, “You know I can, too. You’ve seen me.”

“I think,” Bob uttered, “it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll shoot if I run into any trouble. Meet me back at the car.”

Outside of the Learning Resource Center, you split from the group, sneaking close to the ground. You heard the rest shuffle in the opposite direction with a soft “C’mon, c’mon.”, and let out a shaky breath. Two pairs, then three pairs of footsteps faded away.

The lights of the wing flickered and let out fading sparks as you padded along, dust pillowing up from wherever you stepped. God, the outbreak sure did a number on this place. Shadows grew as abundantly as the plants, but never dulled the smears of blood along the walls, floor, and shattered glass. It cracked and snapped under you, somewhere behind you, and you hissed as you looked at the walls alongside you. There were several doorways leading to different rooms, most likely supply closets or classrooms. Carefully, you dipped yourself into the nearest doorway, a heavy feeling on your back. Your heart pumped wildly in your chest and your stomach had a sick pit of anxiety as you thumbed through the biggest drawers. There were plenty of jars, containers, and vials, but none of them had what you needed. You read all the labels once, twice, the text in messy handwriting or tiny fonts.

Testosterone, in its liquid form made for injections, should be a clear liquid. You knew that much from what your provider told you, and from your own studies. Any colored liquids, or any with particles floating inside, you discarded from your search immediately. You were taking too long, you started to think, or were you? You didn’t know if you were gone for ten or if you have been here for thirty.

Once again, you slid back into the trashed hallway, trying to make your way towards the next doorway. The only things you could hear were your quick breaths and a creak, most likely from the forgotten building. A set pattern was in your mind as you dove into the room, and the haze of adrenaline made it hard to think. Walkers, as the prison liked to call them, were not your biggest concern. Even before the outbreak, it was dangerous for you to step outside; to live your life. If you passed by the wrong person, your face would be on the hot topic of the community for the week after. Getting caught was not an option.

You blinked, trying to clear the thumping in your ears. The vial’s label looked like a foreign language, though you knew it wasn’t, so you peered closer at it. A gust of hot air hit your neck, and again. Hot air. This place was cold.

Your fingers scrambled for the knife at your side, it was there, wasn’t it? You slashed before you could think. Hair scratched your fingers; your knife dug into a warm crevice. The hot air turned into a raw, groaning noise. The hot air stopped.

You pushed the body to the ground and your blade was released. The blood trickled hot down your wrist. Instead of the red you expected, it was a sludgy, filthy brown. It dripped in slow droplets on the floor beside your shoes. This was the first opportunity to look at the thing, and what a sight it was.

The knife had caved in a part of its skull, which itself was like a rotten, stomped on pumpkin. It oozed and dripped the same muck over the tile, muddying the disfigured face underneath. It made Osbourne’s stage trick look like simple child’s play to anyone who witnessed the act. Its eyes were still open; bulging out in that manic, hungry way only a madman got before the outbreak. You looked away from the mess, your breakfast seizing in your throat, and you busied yourself with getting more testosterone vials in your bag. The most important thing was that it was not human, not anymore.

Stuffing your full hand in your bag, you made a beeline for the doorway.

You should have learned your lesson.

A weight tumbled over you and knocked you to the floor, breathless. It screeched, rabid, like some sort of fucked up dog. If a dog hadn’t eaten for a month, that is. It stunk, too. It stunk so bad that you thought you might die from suffocation first.

It clawed at you, gnashing its yellow teeth. Your hands were pinned underneath the mass and you heard your knife land across the floor with a clang. This was going to be it. The end. It’s funny, isn’t it? Dying searching for your lifeline. You almost giggled at the irony.

The teeth were close to your neck, aiming to kill. To eat until you were nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. You had to do something, and soon. The only part of your body you could move were your legs, and you tensed them up. You were going to survive this, you were going to get back to that car.

Three.

You struggled to prop your shoulder up, knocking the danger away from your neck. Its eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. As empty as a corpse.

Two.

The walker got more desperate to bite you, wiggling around harshly on top of you. You tried your best to keep your face far away from its own, but it successfully nipped the edge of your nose. This was going to hurt.

One.

Its final noise was a gurgling one, close to your ear. The weight flopped to your right side, stilling its frugal attempt to destroy you.

“You got yourself covered, huh,” a voice remarked.

You wheezed, “Christ.”

“What were you doin’?”

“Shit.”

Daryl stepped over you, pulling his arrow out of the corpse, “I’m serious.”

You finally got your legs under you, and the first thing you did was back a good distance away from him. There was no getting out of this, you both knew that Daryl would know if you lied to him. Yet, he was one of the last people in the prison you felt comfortable telling. Daryl was a classic redneck, with a bigot older brother and a taste for mysteriousness. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up like a wildfire. You would have much rather told Carol or even Michonne, if you had to choose.

“You know what Bob said.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “but you ain’t an alcoholic. I know that much.”

“I’m not, but that wasn’t the point. I only came on this run for one thing, and it isn’t medicine. It’s testosterone.”

“Why do you need that? You’re strong enough without that steroid shit.”

“I don’t get as much as you do naturally.”

“So a medical condition?”

“Kind of.”

“Even if it was, that don’t explain why you had to sneak away from the group to get it. What’re you hiding?”

“I’m transgender, Daryl. I wasn’t born a boy like you,” you murmured.

There was a parade of footsteps down the hallway, and Tyreese burst through the door, the others close behind. He looked spooked, with sweat dripping down his disheveled face. Michonne and, speaking of the devil, Bob looked no better off.

He exclaimed, “Jesus, there you two are. We gotta go, now.”

“What, why?”

“Walkers. Tons of ‘em. Let’s go!”

You gladly took this chance, shoving past Daryl to dart out into the hallway with the others. Everyone else was rushing, but it was a minute before you also heard footsteps behind you. The infected corpses swarmed the building, even though it wasn’t like that before, and it made you wonder what the hell released them. Your group ran up the stairs with walkers not too far behind, and those trapped banged on whatever surface they could reach.

“There was a ledge near the fire escape,” Michonne hissed, “we can go through there.”

No one responded unless a quick nod could be considered one, and you were off. Michonne went first, then Tyreese, you, and finally Daryl. Your legs were shaking, and you paid Bob a glance. He tensed up, seemingly trying to gauge the distance, before jumping. He was barely right, and landed a little too close to the edge, teetering off. His arms flailed and an army of bodies from below swarmed up to grab his heavy bag. You rushed to catch him, attempting to pull the man up, but he refused to let his backpack go.

Finally, you ripped both the man and his bag away from the grasp of the walkers, panting, “What the fuck were you doing? What’s in that bag that could possibly be so important?”

“He’s right.” Daryl took the bag from Bob, zipping it open.

Bob rushed to stop him, but it was too late. Daryl dropped the backpack as quick as he picked it up, and he seized Bob by the collar.

“If I ever catch you puttin’ a bottle before a need, I’ll feed you to the walkers myself. You hear me?”

You froze as Daryl let the shorter man down, pushing him as he did so. Everyone else shot him a disappointed look or a glare, and Michonne waved her hand. You were all to keep moving; the run was over, and on an especially sour note.

The group arrived back to the prison safe and sound, the most daring of injuries being bruises, or small cuts. Tyreese and Michonne left to do their own activities, while Bob left to lick his wounds. This retired Daryl and yourself alone, to an awkward silence. With nothing else to do, you picked at a particularly nasty cut on your forearm. It was starting to look infected.

You cleared your throat, “Do you have anything left in your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I use some?”

“Nah.” Daryl tossed you his bag.

Carefully, you peeked inside. There wasn’t much left, some disinfectant spray and vials of a clear liquid. No, that couldn’t be, could it?

Testosterone. At least three good vials of it.

You raised them up to your face, not believing your eyes, “Daryl, where the hell did you get these?”

“Grabbed them from that drawer you found the others in,” he refused to make eye contact, “after you left.”

“Why?”

“You might’ve needed more than you got.”

That… meant a lot to you. You had expected him to at the very least ignore you, or even worse, disgusted by you. What were the chances he would grab extras for you, just in case? Instead of yelling or hitting or kicking you out of his life, Daryl did that. If you were being honest, this was one of the weirdest coming out stories to date, but nothing can really beat zombies being included.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Nah. I’m a little confused, though.”

“On the topic?”

Daryl sighed, “Yeah. Wasn’t educated that much.”

“Well, if you want, I could help with that.”

Just for a second, he looked you in the eyes. In that moment, you didn’t see hate, anger, or anything negative. Only a sharp, beautiful glimpse of curiosity.

“Yeah.”

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theapocalypseisonlythebeginning · 1 year

Text

Bad People or Good People? - Chapter 6: A Stronger Girl

Story Summary:

“Find a group…” are one of the last words Lee says to Clementine. And so, Clementine does. Over and over and over again… until Clementine finds Daryl Dixon and his group at the prison. Whilst it’s easy to gain the affection of Daryl, a man who soon becomes like a father to her, other members of the group might have some issues with her… not to mention the looming threat of other people still out there.

Changes Clementine’s fate after telltale’s season 1 to fit in with the Walking Dead show, intertwining the stories from mid season 3 and onwards. Clementine is therefore 9 at the start!

(I will try to write with enough details that if you haven’t seen or played either of the medias, you can follow along. But I also keep in mind that some have played and seen things multiple times so if something that was canon doesn’t make sense immediately, it will in a later chapter <3 )

Chapter Summary: Whilst fixing cars with Daryl (and Merle), Clementine ponders on whether she should tell the group where to find Ylva's group now that she's finally free of it. In the end, it's the last two people one would think to change Clementine's mind that convince her...

read it on Ao3 too previous chapters: Glenn || Find a Group || Fever || Forgiveness || An Honest Man ||

Mornings in Woodbury included being good morninged by neighbors as one went to pick up fresh vegetables from the gardens for breakfast. Although there had been some safe places for them since the start of the apocalypse, Tyreese and Sasha had not had these luxuries before. It was safe. There were walls. Their aching muscles could relax…

And yet… there was no downside. And neither were stupid enough to think that a place like this could exist without a downside…

“They’re hiding something,” Tyreese spoke up, staring down at the fresh zucchini in his hands. All around them, Woodbury residents were chatting, catching up in the morning sun. Spotless jeans, clean sun dresses, and children with nothing more but some mud on their knees… It was too perfect in a world gone mad.

They stood out among the crowd. As if they were back in a world where two dark skinned people was as exotic to see as a white tiger at a zoo. Only this time, they were standing out from the crowd because of their experiences. No one paid them much attention with looks, but if someone laid eyes on them, they would put on friendly smiles and play the roles everyone seemed to be playing. Of course it had only been a week or two since they had arrived, but no one had quite taken to them yet. Despite their efforts, their traveling companions were having the same issue. Only difference was that they were not bothered by the potential threat of dark secrets…

“Have some of these people even been outside the walls? Seen what it’s like?” Sasha asked quietly.

“If it lasts, it don’t matter but… it’s not healthy.”

“It’s not safe,” Sasha pointed out, giving her older brother a pointed look. “If people don’t know how to fend for themselves…”

“I know,” Tyreese interrupted, voice mellow. “I know…”

“Hiya neighbors!” Hat on his head, jeans on and boots strapped to his feet, a familiar face approached Tyreese and Sasha. He had arrived not too long before Tyreese and Sasha. His temper… had made the Governor not trust him as quickly as others. Now, though, that temper and need to protect had earned him a spot in the guard which Tyreese and Sasha did not get. The soldiers confided in him, unlike them.

“Hi Kenny,” Sasha greeted, the friendly smile on her lips not as forced as with the other residents. Kenny had been through it too, just like them. What he had seen exactly, though, no one knew aside from potentially Sarita and her family. He had looked… rough when they had first met. Paranoid. Filled with animosity. The Governor had barely wanted Kenny to join his community until he saw some sort of potential in Kenny…

“It is a beautiful day today, ain’t it?”

“You’re in a good mood,” Tyreese pointed out with a chuckle.

“Why shouldn’t I be? We’re safe. There’s food.” Kenny did mellow down a bit as another thought entered his mind. But he didn’t seem to quite get angry again. Instead, there was a sad happiness to it. “I just wish I could’ve found this place earlier when…” He bit down the words with a sigh.

Finding this place would have saved his family a lot of starving… and they might’ve still been around.

All of them.

“You on guard duty today?” Kenny asked instead, changing the topic.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you later then.” Smiles were exchanged and Kenny headed off to the gardens to fetch dinner for his new family.

He tried. He truly did. But the smile didn’t last. At least he wasn’t upset this day, but that didn’t take away the hurt and pain that festered in his heart. He got lucky that he made it out of Savannah. Now he couldn’t lose this place too.

He just couldn’t.

A young girl ran past Kenny, laughing and giggling as a young boy chased her. They were all smiles, well fed and safe.

Dangit… Kenny should have left that motel earlier. He should have kept his family safe. He and Lee might have been able to find this place and keep their kids safe. Some people might not have died. Certain… event might not have happened if they had not been pushed to do anything for a bit of food…

Clementine might be with Kenny still, Lee would still be alive. Now? Now, Kenny didn’t even know if Clementine was free of the man who had grabbed her…

It had all gone to the shit. But Clementine was a strong girl. Even with Lee gone from that bite, Kenny was sure that one way or another, that little girl had made it. He just had to believe it.

All Kenny had to focus on now was dealing with those people at the prisoner. If the Governor said the only way to keep Woodbury safe was to kill them all, then Kenny would do so. He would not lose yet another home. And he would not lose Sarita and her family, no matter the cost…

…

Clementine’s little fingers gripped a pink pen lightly as she wrote a four on the line behind an easy addition. Her eyes glanced over at Carol each time she wrote a number, earning a little nod of approval sometimes, or a shake of the head otherwise.

Finishing one page, Clementine turned it to continue with the equations there.

Carol was folding laundry at the same table, which seemed so much more interesting right now then figuring out what 23+12 was. Behind Carol, her rifle was perched against the cement wall of the dining area - a contrast towards the homely action she was occupying herself with. It showcased the beautifully strong personality Carol held and which didn’t disappear even if she was doing homely chores. Clementine still yearned to be like that one day.

“How’s it going?” Carol asked, breaking the silence. Clementine had been watching the folding instead of doing her math.

“It’s hard…” It was almost a lie, but she was definitely bored and wanted to try evoking sympathy to get out of this.

That method usually worked on her mother.

Not on Carol. “Sometimes we have to do hard things in life, Clementine. But you have to be tough, and do your best.” Carol tilted her head to the side, lips bunching up in a questioning look not directed at Clementine, but at her own thoughts. In her hands, she held one of Daryl’s shirts (one of two shirts he owned), but she paused her folding. “A little bit like telling us about this other group.”

Silence filled the room, and Clementine avoided looking at Carol.

“We have to know, Clementine. If we don’t know where they are, how are we meant to protect you? Or ourselves?”

“What are you going to do…?” Clementine asked, biting her lip as she pretended to continue counting instead.

“I don’t know, hon,” Carol admitted, reaching out to push a stray lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. It flopped back just as quickly though. “But that’s Rick’s decision alone.”

“What are you going to do about the Governor?”

“I don’t know either,” Carol admitted, this time a little quieter. “They took some of our people. They killed others. It’s… We have to do something. But there’s so few of us.”

“Ylva’s group hasn’t done anything…” A frown appeared on Clementine’s face as she shifted in her seat, an uncomfortable feeling appearing in her chest - like a ball squeezing its way through her lungs. “Does that mean they wouldn’t get hurt?”

“Are you really defending them? After you said they were bad people?”

The ball got bigger, and Clementine had to take in a deep breath to make sure she could still breathe. “They’re not all bad people…” The words were whispered only to be left hanging in the almost always present silence protruding through the halls of a building that had seen horrors long before the apocalypse began.

The silence was disrupted by Hershel’s crutch squeaking whilst he passed through the dining area. He offered Clementine a smile as he passed her by, and a respectful nod toward Carol.

He was headed outside, most likely going to find a spot of sunlight to read his Bible in as it was tucked under his arm.

Clementine had found him reading outside the building a couple of times already now. Usually she would join him, listen to him read… but she found the Bible difficult to understand. Too shy to ask for explanations, she’d have to awkwardly nod along whenever Hershel attempted to give further insight into a favourite quote.

She’d caught him tell his daughters that Clementine was beginning to become a Bible savant - half joking, perhaps, but still with a twinkle of pride in his eyes. He’d say she was quite intelligent when it came to religious philosophy, especially for someone her age. Of course, all he would read to her was Genesis. Clementine remembered some of that from her time at school… but truly, all she did was smile and nod and pretend whenever Hershel started analyzing the passages in depth, she understood what he meant.

She’d gotten lucky so far that he didn’t ask her any follow up questions yet.

What mattered, though, wasn’t really the biblical discussion between them. What mattered was the fact that Clementine could finally relax around Hershel completely, and vice versa. The only person who still struggled with Clem among the Greene family was Maggie. Despite the woman being gentle and kind, it just… felt off. Maggie felt off. As if she was hesitant about how to approach Clementine.

“Alright then… Let’s focus on the math, Clementine.” Hershel offered the young girl an apologetic look.

Although, Clementine would have preferred listening to the Bible over doing math.

The math book didn’t belong to Clementine. It had once belonged to an Avery. Avery hadn’t enjoyed math either. She had doodled flowers and lady bugs in the margins instead.

As the door closed behind Hershel, Clementine let out a sigh and looked back down at the numbers. It had been a fun idea to get to spend time with Carol at first but… math got boring quickly.

As this was the third day of consecutive math, Clementine was done.

“Maybe I can go practice shooting?” Lee’s gun was, as usual, tucked into the back of her trousers for her own safety.

“Who has been teaching you to shoot?” Carol asked in concern.

“No one, but I want to practice.”

Realization dawned on Carol. She tapped the math book with a stern, but amused look on her face. “You’re still healing.”

“How long am I going to be healing?” complained Clementine.

“Until your cheeks aren’t sunken in anymore.” Carol’s voice was a few pitches higher as she moved her finger from the math book, over to Clementine’s cheek to poke at it. The girl giggled, and so did Carol.

“I once said I missed school,” Clementine continued with a sigh, “I don’t think I meant it.”

Carol chuckled. “We all miss the silliest of things since the world changed.”

“What do you miss?” Clementine asked, happy to avoid the math book.

Carol took in a deep breath, thinking about it. “I sometimes miss folding my own husband’s clothes,” she replied, looking down at the large pile of laundry on the table in front of them. “And my daughter’s. It was…”

“Less?” Clementine finished for Carol.

A smile appeared on the woman’s lips where a frown had begun to appear. Clementine was happy to have helped. “So much less.”

“I can help-“

“Focus on your math, Clem,” Carol said, an amused twinkle in her eyes despite the shake of her head.

But Clementine wasn’t going to give up that easily. “I can already shoot a gun. I wouldn’t hurt anybody. I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you know how to use that gun. A girl like you wouldn’t have survived this long without knowing how to fend for herself. But math is important too.”

“Why?”

That question threw Carol off. “Well…” But Carol was saved by the outer door swinging open, revealing not Hershel returning, but Rick, Maggie and Glenn; back from a supply run. They looked unharmed, barely any extra dirt on them. Clearly, it had been an easy run.

With them, they carried large baskets of food, medicine and baby formula.

Well, Glenn and Rick carried supplies. Maggie, on the other hand, was holding a different kind of box in her arms.

“You’re back,” Carol greeted, putting the laundry down to turn toward them, Clementine following suit so she could turn her back on the math.

Rick nodded, sending a little smile toward Clementine as she waved. “We found all we needed. We’re good for at least a week.”

“I suppose you needed to do some math to figure that out, huh?” Carol asked, earning a strange look from the three adults.

Clementine let out a huff of air. She didn’t like how that actually made sense.

“I… suppose,” Rick agreed, glancing between the two with amused eyes.

Carol teasingly pushed Clementine with a chuckle, aware she had earned some leverage in making Clementine do more math later.

“Having fun?” Glenn asked, earning another huff of air from Clementine. “Ah… Gotcha. Well, maybe uh… maybe this will make it better.”

Glenn offered Maggie a reassuring nod, urging the woman to walk over with the box in arms. She crouched down in front of Clementine, and offered the box to the little girl. All adults watched with smiles on their lips as Clementine gawked in silence, momentarily too surprised to understand this was a gift for her.

“Woah!” The unopened box held two, semi new, walkie talkies. “Walkie talkies!”

“Do you like ‘em?” Maggie asked.

It took her a few seconds to understand what was implied. “Did-Did you get it for me?”

Maggie nodded with a smile. “Glenn told us you like ‘em.”

“But,” Glenn quickly butted in, “it was Maggie’s idea to bring them back.”

There was something of a mutual understanding that passed between Maggie and Glenn as they shared a look… like this was a peace offering to Clementine, or an attempt to make the first move in getting to know the girl. Since Maggie’s harsh words to Clementine, few other words had been exchanged between them, adding to the awkward tensions between child and woman.

Glenn wanted nothing more but for them to get along. And, honestly, so did Maggie. She saw what a sweet girl Clementine was, and what an innocent and pure heart she held. Nothing would feel better than to have that in Maggie’s life alongside of Beth’s presence. The world was so bleak… it was nice to find little bits of light still present.

And she was curious how Clementine managed to get Daryl to smile. No one knew the trick yet, but they wanted to learn!

Though, Clementine suddenly wasn’t smiling anymore. “I shouldn’t…”

Maggie shared a look with Carol, who shook her head not knowing what had caused the switch in mood. The two men turned too, the sad tone of the child prompting them to react. “What’s wrong, Clem?” Glenn asked.

“Last time…” Clementine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, making herself small as if guilt compressed her. With her head bowed, the front of her cap shielded her face, but the sadness was still present in her voice. “Last time I had a walkie talkie, I made mistakes…”

Glenn moved over and crouched down by Maggie. “What do you mean, Clem?”

“I… Someone was talking to me through it. I went with him, and I got… People got hurt. I got grabbed!” Clementine shook her head no. “You shouldn’t let me.”

“Well, last time I remember you and walkie talkies, you kept a close eye on me and saved my life,” Glenn said to try and encourage her to take the gift. “I’d wager that makes up for whatever happened, don’t you think?”

Clementine stayed silent.

It didn’t.

What happened had killed Lee. It had been her fault, because of a walkie talkie.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she looked up to find Rick smiling down at her. “I was a cop before all this happened. I know this brand. It’s got great reach and yeh can’t intercept the signal easily.”

“But it happened once.”

Rick nodded his head, smile staying on his lips. “And you know that’s dangerous now, so you won’t let it happen again, right? These are top of the class walkie talkies, with great range.” He tapped the box Maggie was still holding balanced on her knees. “How ‘bout this?” Rick crouched down too. Three adults were in front of Clementine, offering her supportive, gentle smiles. She couldn’t help but smile back, heart warming at the good people she was surrounded by. “You give one of these to us, we’ll only ever start any conversation with a secret code. That way, you can be sure it’s the real us you’re talkin’ to. And if someone talks to yeh that you don’t know, you let one of us know.”

“We won’t let you get grabbed, Clementine,” Maggie added with a gentle smile.

This was something Clementine didn’t have to contemplate for long. “Okay. What’s the code?”

Rick thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “How about…” his eyes were on the math book Clementine had been working on, “2 plus 2 is the question, and the other person answers… wrong.”

“Wrong?” Clementine asked.

“Everyone knows what 2 plus 2 is. Not everyone knows to answer it wrong.”

Clementine smiled. “I like that.”

“Great, right after I’ve been trying to convince her math is important,” Carol sarcastically added.

“It is,” Clementine reassured the woman, turning to offer her a happy smile. “I wouldn’t know 4 is the right answer otherwise, and I’d get the password wrong!” She mellowed down a bit to admit, against her own pride, “I suppose I’ll pay more attention to math again…”

Carol chuckled along with the other adults. Carefully, Maggie offered the walkie talkies to Clementine, whilst Glenn offered her a few extra batteries. The box was heavy, but Clementine didn’t struggle too much, too happy to notice her shaky muscles.

“Go put it up in your room,” Carol said. “You can play with them after you’ve finished this page.”

Clementine happily nodded in agreement to that plan (both aware math could be useful, and too happy to be annoyed by math), and started waddling off holding the box. However, she paused midway and turned back around again. She faced the adults, who were standing once more to continue unpacking what they had gathered. “Thank you.”

Her words made them stop and turn back to her. Maggie was the one to reply: “That’s okay, honey.”

Turning once more, Clementine hurried to the cellblock, a smile on her lips. Lee would have loved this… two working walkie talkies to keep an eye on Clementine. She would have misused it so much, checking in on him when he went to bed (even if he just slept right next to her), or bother him with questions when he was on guard duty… It would have been great fun.

Sometimes, she pondered whilst walking past the first row of cells, smiling at Beth keeping an eye on a napping Judith, Clementine still imagined the entire group living in peace at the motel. Duck was still there, drawing with her. Ben would sit next to them, watching over them (poorly) whilst he guessed what they had drawn completely wrong. Lilly would be on guard duty. Larry would still be alive (but less mean). Kenny and Katjaa would sit on a couch nearby, smiling over at Duck whenever Clementine made him laugh. And Lee would be there, with Doug, passing them by whilst on guard duty, or offering them snacks from runs… Mark would be alive. Carley. Omid. Christa. Christa’s baby…

And now? Now, Maggie, Beth, Rick, Judith, Carl, Hershel, Carol, Daryl and even Merle - they would all be there too.

It was her happy place.

She hoped that maybe this prison could become her new happy place, as bleak and sullen as it looked.

Walking up the steps, she saw Daryl peak over the edge to check who was arriving. He tilted his head curiously when he saw her carry a heavy box, and stood up from his mattress. “You need help?” he muttered quietly.

She shook her head, still beaming with joy. “Nope!” With that, she passed a very confused Daryl by, Merle sticking his head out only to roll his eyes at Clementine’s happy grin and disappear into his cell again.

Clementine wasted no time on placing her present on the floor beside her bed. Most of the time, she still slept outside on the perch with Daryl. But this was her cell; her room. She was accumulating objects in there - a flashlight, some extra clothes, some snacks, education books (yuck), colouring books, notepads, pens… Little things. They all meant a great deal to her. Even at the motel she’d only had enough to fit into her backpack.

No, she truly hoped this could become her new happy place. It was dangerous to have that hope, but she couldn’t help it. This had been such a great week so far…

“What’d yeh get?” The voice startled her, but not enough for her to jump. She only turned, seeing Daryl standing leaned against her door frame.

“Come look!” She waved him inside. The man walked over hesitantly, chewing his bottom lip. Then he crouched beside her, inspecting the box.

“Whatcha need that for?” he grumbled.

“Glenn remembered I had one before. It… I used it to talk to my dad when I played outside.” Daryl watched her, his silence indicating he was listening to her intently. It boosted her confidence to continue. “Glenn had the other for a while, and that was how Lee knew to go help Glenn when he got in trouble.”

Daryl nodded his head.

“Glenn broke the other.” Clementine giggled. “Maybe he felt guilty.”

“And whatcha gonna do with it now? Ain’t no way it can reach far.”

“Rick said it could! He said it was a really, really good brand.” Clementine was still beaming, and it seemed infectious, Daryl offering a faint smile. “You have to know the secret code.”

“Hm?”

“L-Last time… I got grabbed. Someone was talking through the walkie talkie… he said he had my parents, but he lied.” Clementine offered Daryl a sad look. “He was a bad person. So Rick said… Rick said that we will use a secret code so I don’t get grabbed.”

“’Kay. What is it?”

“2 plus 2? That’s the question. And you have to answer wrong.”

Daryl stared at her for a while, then let out a scoff akin to a laugh, which caused her to giggle along. That was the longest conversation she’d had with Daryl.

It felt nice.

“Daryl?” Rick called for him from downstairs, and the man stood to leave. Clementine watched as he leaned over the railing outside her cell, looking down at Rick. “I got you the part you wanted.”

“Cool. Merle and I’ll go take a look at her in a sec.” Daryl stood up straight and let out a: “Merle! Get yer ass out here.” Then he turned to glance once more at Clementine. He nodded once. “’ave fun with those.”

Clementine smiled and watched him walk away, hearing his boots hitting the steel perch with each step. Another pair of footsteps joined Daryl’s, and Clementine did not have to move away from the walkie talkies and peek outside as she did to know it was Merle.

She’d enjoyed getting to talk to Daryl. She still knew little about him, aside from what Carol had told her about him and his paternal nature toward Judith, and aside from what Clementine had gathered from her own gut feeling. The fact that Daryl let her sleep on the perch with him also told her he didn’t mind Clementine’s presence. All this only accumulated toward an intense curiosity about the man, and a want to be accepted by him. And that was what made her chase after the Dixon brothers, leaving the walkie talkies for now.

“Where are you going?” she asked when she caught up with them downstairs.

Merle was the one to reply: “Ain’t none of yer business, kid.”

Her frown seemed to prompt Daryl to reply instead. “Fix a car.”

“Can I help?” Her question reverberated against the walls of the dining area as the three stepped through the door. There, Carol was still sitting, waiting for Clementine to return and finish her math.

“You’ve still got some work to do,” Carol piped up, reminding the girl.

“Oh…” Clementine lamented, her frown returning.

“What ‘ave yeh got her doin’?” Daryl asked, approaching his friend. Merle stayed away, watching Daryl interact with others with his arms crossed over his chest. That was how it usually went, unless Merle had rude things to say.

“Mathematics.”

Daryl scoffed, but paused before saying something, glancing back to Clementine to check on her reaction. Only when he saw her slight frown did he have the courage to say what he had been thinking: “Boring. Give ‘er a break. I’ll teach ‘er something out there. Somethin’ useful.”

Although it was blatantly obvious that Carol was not impressed with this, Carol still nodded her head and closed the math’s book. With a stern look to Clementine, who was already grinning again, Carol said: “But you do extra tomorrow then, ‘kay? And you better learn something out there.”

Nodding her head eagerly, Clementine agreed to the terms of their agreement, before beaming up at Daryl. Unsure of how to react to her joy, Daryl’s eyes flickered down to Clementine a couple of times before he elected to ignore her and simply stride on toward the door, Merle in tow and happy girl skipping along after.

It was a funny sight, and Carol contemplated watching this play out from afar before simply chuckling and continuing folding the clean laundry.

…

“Alrigh’.” Daryl and Merle had brought Clementine to a corner of the courtyard that was usually locked away. Standing apart from the rest of the prison building, it was a solitary block of cement accompanied by a medium sized garage big enough to store three fire trucks at least. What was inside, Clementine had no idea. But outside of it, the cement ground held the vehicles the group used for traveling outside the prison. The fence surrounding this part was locked with a set of keys that only Rick and Daryl owned.

“This one needs fixin’.” Daryl patted the hood of the car they stood before. It was nothing fancy, and covered in dirt. Daryl left a hand print on it. “Rick wants it ready before he goes out on a run with Carl and Michonne.”

“He’s going out again?” Clementine asked, worried.

Daryl only nodded his head.

Ignoring what task had been given him, Merle passed the car by and headed straight for a motorcycle - the one Daryl always drove.

“Can’t believe you kept her in good shape,” Merle praised, nodding his head. He circled the motorcycle. Daryl eyed his brother, but didn’t reply, instead shifting to the side of the car. He checked the bags when -

“Your stash’s gone, Merle. Carl needed meds.”

“Worth a try,” Merle replied with a shrug.

Daryl opened the driver’s door, leaned inside and suddenly, the car’s hood popped open a few inches.

Clementine watched, intrigued. In all honesty, she had never seen the inside of a car engine before. Plenty of cars had been open when they’d wandered around in Savannah and other places, but she’d never been tall enough to see properly. When Kenny had been fixing the RV, she had either been too busy with her walkie talkie, or been asked to stay away and play with Duck.

Her intrigue seemed to be noticed by Daryl, who moved a stack of crates over for her to stand on. He awkwardly gestured to it, never really mentioning that it was for her - but she understood and hopped up.

Daryl opened the hood, propping it open, leaving Clementine… completely confused with what she was looking at.

From his pocket, Daryl took out a small, red cube. He held it up for Clementine to see. “That goes there.” He pointed at a large square inside of the engine, which he opened to reveal… another large square. It held those cubes too. He didn’t explain anything else and simply went to work, clearly unsure what to do in terms of Clementine. She understood not everyone was used to kids, Lee hadn’t been at first either, and so she didn’t mind, letting him get used to this at his own pace.

“How do you know so much about cars?” Clementine asked instead to try and make him comfortable. “Were you a mechanic?”

Daryl didn’t reply. He stayed focused on the engine instead. Beside her, Clementine noted Merle showing up, leaning against the side of the car to light a cigarette.

“My dad was an engineer. He gave me this hat.” She touched the front of her cap, and smiled when Daryl turned to glance her way. He was under the hood, hovering over the engine with hair in his face. Despite having been in the middle of trying to fit the coloured cube alongside the other coloured cubes (she was seconds away from asking for clarification but also didn’t have the courage, similar to Daryl), Daryl had paused to give her some attention. She appreciated this ten fold. Adults often got cranky when children wanted some attention whilst they were busy with something.

Daryl always went out of his way to be opposite to other adults. It was a reassuring change in her life.

He nodded at her hat. “What happened to ‘im?”

Clementine’s demeanour fell. “He turned…”

“I’m sorry,” Daryl was quick to say. He seemed to have more words for the girl concerning her parents, but instead opted to turn back to the engine, nervously biting his lip. “I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t an engineer. Jus’ didn’t have the money to keep going to them mechanics.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Daryl awkwardly cleared his throat, then straightened up. The coloured cube was in place, and he patted the side of the car. Clementine wondered if that was something you had to do when fixing cars... maybe it was part of the process? “Merle, give ‘er a go.”

Cigarette still lit, Merle sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the key. The car made a funny, coughing sound, but never turned on.

“Shit,” Daryl grunted.

“That’s a bad word.” The words had slipped out before Clementine could stop herself, yet, both Dixon brothers had reacted.

By staring.

“Oh yeah?” Daryl asked, a faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Merle, on the other hand, just looked annoyed.

“Yeah… Lee said I shouldn’t say that.”

“What do I say instead?”

“Manure.”

There was a pause. Clementine wasn’t sure whether Daryl knew what the word meant, but then he chuckled, wiped his brow and bent back over the engine. His chuckle was enough to make Clementine grin in joy. He was accepting her for who she was.

“Manure?” Merle scoffed, appearing next to them. “I ain’t swearing with some bullshit French word. What it even mean?”

Daryl’s chuckles grew a tad louder, but he covered it up with a cough.

“It’s poop,” Clementine clarified.

Merle blinked at her. “You French, girl?”

Confused, Clementine stuttered out a: “No?”

“Then just say shit.” Merle breathed in some smoke, and slowly exhaled it through his nostrils all the while glaring at Clementine. “We’re Americans, we say what we want in our own English.”

“It’s…” Clementine quietened down, too confused by Merle’s reaction to have a retort.

Pursing her lips in defiance of Merle’s words, Clementine stared back, not saying a single word. Not too bothered by her defiant staring, Merle just shrugged and walked off, opting to sit and smoke on his own by the motorcycle, eyes still watchful of Clementine and Daryl.

“Why didn’t it work?” Clementine asked.

“Dunno.” Daryl wiped at his brow. “Ur fancy dad ever teach yeh anythin’ ‘bout cars?”

“No.” Clementine sounded a little sad at not being able to help. Instead of adding more to say, she leaned down over the engine like Daryl, glancing at him to ensure she was holding the same pose as him, the same frown even.

He was doing it. Maybe it was helping?

If Daryl noticed her mimicking him, he didn’t comment on it.

“Well, shit.” Daryl poked at a small cable, which seemed broken.

“Language,” Clementine quietly reprimanded.

“Right.” Daryl scoffed with a smirk. “Manure.” Clementine giggled. “Cable’s fried. ‘T leads to the battery.” He tapped the square from before with his finger. Clearly, he had relaxed a little around her, speaking more words and feeling the need to start teaching her things. “We know it got juice. The car worked five days ago. Gotta be the cable.”

He stood up straight, and Clementine mimicked him. “Do we have a new cable?”

“Nah. And it’ll be difficult to change a cable.”

“But you can do it?” she asked.

“Ain’t impossible.” He started moving away, and Clementine hopped down to join him. They walked toward a large garage door, tall enough to fit a bus. “It’s clear inside. Also full of cars.” Daryl leaned down to lift the garage door. It didn’t go very well, hinges either rusted shut or the doors never having been intended to open this way…. Who knew. But the gap was big enough to fit under when crouched.

The gap was also big enough to let in a timid amount of light into the large garage. Cars were, indeed, parked in there. Some were large SUVs. Some were civilian cars. There was another bus, alike the one by the gates, standing by the farthermost wall. It was chilly in there, a nice break form the Georgian sun outside.

Daryl and Clementine stood side by side taking in the amount of cars at their disposal: “Let’s check these for a workin’ cable.”

Clementine nodded and the two went their separate ways. Because the group had apparently checked this place for Walkers when taking the prison, Clementine didn’t think of taking her gun out, nor did Daryl make a move to take his out (bow left behind inside the prison). Nevertheless, Clementine didn’t waste a lot of time in grabbing a nearby wrench to keep with her - just in case.

Remembering how Daryl had popped the hood open earlier, Clementine tried to mimic it with most cars. It was difficult though as not all cars worked the same, nor did all cars seem to allow it without a key in - and the key was usually still with the car’s previous owner. But, one car allowed her to pop the hood open.

Its door was still open, and the keys were still inside too. Whoever had owned this seemed to have run off in a rush…

With the hood popped open, Clementine dragged a box over so she could step up and see better. She lifted the hood up without propping it open, and checked inside, arms shaking from the weight of the car’s hood. The wrench she had brought for her own safety was left on the ground beside the box. Somewhere far away, Daryl was popping open a hood too.

She assumed this cable was okay. It was, at least, not burned the way the other one had been. So, with a smile, she’d gone to turn her head and call out for Daryl -

But instead of seeing Daryl’s figure on the other side of the garage, she saw a Walker’s face inches away from hers. It snarled at her and Clementine let out a yelp as she backed up, lost her footing on the box and fell backwards.

Instantly, the hood she had not propped open, shut. That was her lifesaver. It shut straight onto the Walker’s arm as it had charged at her. Stuck, it reached only her foot where she lay on the floor, the air forced out of her lungs from the fall.

Slightly dazed, Clementine didn’t react at first when the Walker’s fingers clawing at her jeans and gripped onto her sock to pull her closer. Still gasping, Clementine heard Daryl’s voice call out for her. Adrenaline surged through her body as she realised she was in danger, and despite being out of breath, Clementine started kicking out at the Walker for dear life.

Another yelp left her, her own fingers reaching over to the wrench she had nearby.

The Walker lost its grip on her sock, but instead grabbed her shoe. This gained it a better grip on her. Its fingers were like gangrenous twigs holding onto her. She had to let out another yelp when she realised she could not free her foot anymore.

Just as her fingers touched the metal that would save her life, the Walker pulled her closer again and she lost the wrench. With her other foot, she kicked at the Walker’s hand, but nothing worked.

Slowly, its arm was being pulled off by the socket where it was stuck. Goo ran down the Walker’s body onto the floor, and just as Clementine determinedly kicked out at the Walker’s face instead, the Walker came undone from its arm and lunged itself at her leg, jaw wide open -

She rolled over in a desperate means to get out of its grip, or not see when it bit her. The movement alerted her to something poking her lower back - her gun!

Her hand reached back.

The Walker’s teeth neared her leg.

And a second Walker appeared crawling from under the car, heading straight for her.

“Clem!” Daryl called out.

“DARYL!”

Not thinking, survival instincts kicking in, Clementine rolled once more, gun in hand, and shot the first Walker twice, missing its head but shooting its shoulders enough to give it pause long enough for Daryl to shoot one bullet through its skull - then she turned and shot the second Walker straight through its forehead.

It went so quiet Clementine barely dared to breathe, but she soon realised it was only the aftereffects of never having caught her breath from the fall. Her fingers tingled. Her vision was shaky.

Before she could even take a breath, Daryl had swooped her up from the floor with one arm and carried her away from the corpses. Putting her on the hood of a car, Daryl checked her leg and ankle for bites and scratches.

“I-I’m okay.”

“We checked this damn place! It should be clear,” Daryl cursed, avoiding looking at her, glaring instead at the side of the car she was sat at.

“I’m okay,” she reassured quietly.

“The hell ya’ll doin’ in here?” Merle called from the garage door, peeking inside to see them alive and well.

“Shut up, Merle! Fat much use you were!”

“Jeez…” Merle only said with a roll of his eyes before disappearing again, most likely to continue smoking.

Daryl remained quietly seething, Clementine watching him. “I’m… I’m okay, Daryl.”

Mellowing down only ever so slightly, Daryl bit his lip. “It was clear.” The words he spoke did nothing to soothe him, but they cut away at the anger disguising his guilt. His eyes caught sight of the gun she was holding, fingers still holding a tight grip on it, hands shaking... and his guilt turned to sympathy. “Yeh did good.” He reached for the gun, eyes still avoiding hers, but fingers gently prying the gun away from her fingers, putting the safety back on. “Yer a good shot. Don’t need me to stick around. Yeh can help yerself.”

“I missed twice,” Clementine commented, voice neutral despite her heart beating like crazy.

He twirled the gun and offered it back to her. She took it, fingers less shaky. “I’ll teach yah. Make sure somethin’ stupid like this don’t happen again.”

“You will?” she asked, mind distracted from what had just happened as she perked up.

“Yeah.” Daryl looked up into her eyes finally, a determined and thoughtful look in his eyes. “Yer a strong girl. I’ll teach yeh to be stronger.”

She smiled, holding his gaze until his lips quirked up into what would have become a smile, if he hadn’t fought it off and cleared his throat. “Let’s finish this up and leave.”

“Okay.” Clementine jumped down from the car, feet hitting the ground in determination and courage. Daryl stuck by Clementine’s side this time, but he let her do the dirty work, standing aside to talk her through taking the cable out. It took a while… but the smile on Clementine’s lips made the wait worth it.

…

“There. Try the engine.”

“Me?” Clementine hurried down the crate despite her question, and rushed to the side of the car before Daryl could reply. Merle was leaning against the car again, watching, but she rounded him and sat down in the driver’s seat. She could barely see over the wheel. Despite this, she placed her hands on it for a moment, smiling as she pretended she was driving it in a moment of self-indulgence.

“Know what yer doing, kid?” Merle asked, surprisingly not sounding very gruff.

“Yes!” She looked around in the car, knowing she had to turn the key - but when she did, nothing happened. “No…” Clementine admitted.

Merle scoffed. His scoffs never sounded as kind as Daryl’s though. “Gotta press the break.”

Slightly giddy from hearing she would get to, Clementine looked down at the pedals beneath her feet. It was a bit of a reach, and she looked tremendously awkward as she all but laid down in the car to reach the pedal and turn the key, but the car turned on.

She clapped her hands, cheering as Daryl rounded the car. He nodded his head at Clementine’s cheers, offering the faintest of smiles at her joy.

Sighing in relief, as if this was the hardest thing in the world for him (who had done nothing), Merle straightened up, stretched and yawned. “Rick coulda done that himself.”

“He’s got a baby he wants to see ‘between runs.”

“Whatever, man,” Merle complained.

“Hey, yeh wanna stay here, you gotta pull yer weight and help. Yer lucky I’m pretending you’re doin’ shit by pulling you along on stuff like this.”

“Whatever,” Merle scoffed, starting to walk off. The gate was unlocked now that Daryl was inside, and the older brother had all the opportunity to storm off. As he did just that, he turned his head to shout some more at Daryl: “Yeh’ve changed, little brother! Yeh used to be someone when yeh weren’t Rick’s little bitch!”

“At least I’m not the Governor’s little bitch,” Daryl snapped back, loud enough for Merle to still hear.

Pausing, Merle turned. He was stood in front of the open gates, with all the opportunity in the world to simply storm off and continue to be mad. But instead, he mellowed, almost seeming to be grieving something: “I know… The day’ll come when yeh realise there ain’t no difference between ‘em.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daryl asked, taking a step toward Merle but keeping the distance between them - as if to keep himself safe from whatever reality Merle lived in.

“He left me-“

“Don’t give me that crap,” Daryl interrupted. An almost victorious grin spread over Merle when Daryl interrupted him in anger. Clementine could not be more confused by this man. “You deserved that. He does nothin’ but keep his family safe.”

“And who’s his family?”

It went quiet.

“You?” Merle asked mockingly. “You ain’t no one’s family… but mine, little brother. You remember that.”

With those words said, Merle turned and left. It was odd. Merle had been content quietly smoking cigarettes whilst Daryl and Clementine worked in the scorching sun. The second he got hit with a dose of reality that he hadn’t done a single thing to help, but would still get credit for it, Merle lashed out… and seemed to enjoy Daryl’s reaction? How odd.

As Daryl watched him wordlessly, almost defeated, and Clementine in turn watched Daryl cautiously, the engine continued to grumble beside them. Annoyed, Daryl turned to the hood and shut it with a little more aggression than needed. “Shut ‘er off.”

Clementine quickly turned the keys again, and the engine quietened. She watched from over the wheel, peeking at him, as Daryl leaned against the hood and let out a heavy sigh. Quietly, Clementine climbed out of the car and rounded it to join Daryl. She stood next to him, hands clasped before her.

“Your brother can be mean.”

“Mean ain’t the word I’d use.” Daryl stayed quiet for a little while longer, then glanced at her. At first, he seemed to want to say something else, then something within him made him change tactics and instead… he offered a faint smile. “’Course, I can’t swear ‘round yeh.”

Clementine let out a little giggle.

With no more words exchanged on the topic, the two headed toward the gates too, keys dangling in Daryl’s hands.

“Thank you for saving me earlier.” Clementine let out a little sigh. “Again.”

“Why the sigh?” Daryl asked absentmindedly. As he locked the gates to the parking area, Clementine watched him and pondered over the question.

“I keep getting grabbed.”

“Yer 9.”

Another sigh left her. “Exactly.” She missed Daryl’s amused eyes. “I should know better.”

Walking beside each other, Daryl was quiet for a little while. But Clementine didn’t seem to perk up on her own. So… “I said I’d teach yah, and I will. Yeh won’t get grabbed again.”

“Thanks,” she admitted with yet another sigh, but this time a relieved one. “Carol won’t like it.”

“Lemme handle tha’.”

…

Later that night, Daryl returned from a late watch duty. He did nothing but let himself collapse down onto his mattress out on the perch, sigh and drape his arm over his eyes. Having heard him return, Clementine snuck out of her cell to join him, lying down next to his mattress in silence. It was their routine now, and Daryl didn’t even move his arm to check who had approached him.

Now able to sleep, Clementine’s eyelids drooped… until they opened again as she caught sight of something. There, by Judith’s crib, was a piece of paper at eye level for her. Of course it was odd, no one really used paper aside from taking inventory, or for Clementine to draw on. So… she moved over to check it out.

You should tell my dad about Ylva’s group. He needs to know to keep us safe. Or to help others.

Clementine read it a couple of times. It was obvious who it was from, but she was a little surprised that her effort of reaching out to Carl through a piece of paper had… stuck.

The words Merle had said earlier in the day were on repeat in Clementine’s head: The day’ll come when yeh realise there ain’t no difference between ‘em. She’d heard it in her mind all day as they were such a stark contrast to the man she did see. The man who smiled at her, the man who waved back in a cute greeting between the two, the man who’d crouched down in front of her and sworn to her that these Walkie Talkies would be safe…

She’d never met the Governor. But at least Rick hadn’t murdered when he shouldn’t have.

Right…?

Glancing back at Daryl, as if this was a super secret conversation no adult could overhear, Clementine snuck back to her cell and created a new note: Will he hurt my friends?

Folding it neatly, she created a paper airplane. Unaware Daryl was watching from underneath his arm, Clementine let it float down. She stayed by the railing, watching, as Carl apparently had been waiting up. He snuck out, avoiding looking up at Clementine, and grabbed the paper plane before rushing back to his own cell.

A minute later, he came back out, looked up at her, and threw a paper plane back up to her. She caught it easily and quickly read it: I don’t know him anymore.

When Clementine looked down from the perch at where Carl was stood, Carl looked utterly defeated. There was no malice in his eyes anymore. Frankly, in that moment, Clementine was sure that Carl had never felt anything bad toward Clementine. Carl was just sad.

Clementine rushed back to her cell to create a reply. Her pink pen rested on the paper for a long time, contemplating what her own feelings were toward Rick. He’d been kind to her. Defended her from the others when they weren’t too keen on taking a random child in. Glenn trusted Rick with his life. Daryl seemed to think of Rick as family. No one was scared of Rick… but there was definitely something in the group’s past. Something negative.

All of the logic went out the drain though. Clementine had seen Carl’s defeated look. And she wanted to prove him wrong about his own father, so he could look less sad and angry. And… she also wanted to believe her own words, and see some proof of what she thought Rick was.

He’s a good person.

Carl stared up at Clementine in confusion at the reply. She offered a faint smile, then turned to Daryl.

Gently, she poked his shoulder. “Daryl?”

He let out a grunt in reply, moving his arm to look at her curiously.

“I wanna tell you where to find Ylva’s group…”

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