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deputyrook · 6 months

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The Assistant - Lou Bloom x Reader. Horrror/Romance

This is an old fic re-upload. I'm just going to post all four parts in one. Anyway, this is one of the few old fics I'm still quite proud of, so please enjoy (or enjoy again!)

Lou Bloom (Nightcrawler) x female reader (she/her).

WORD COUNT: 11,258

Warnings: Stalking, voyeurism, gaslighting, coercion, emotional manipulation, creepy behaviour.

“This is a very exciting opportunity. One that you’re not going to want to pass up. Now, I don’t know that you’re ready to take on this role, but I believe that when you give someone responsibility, they have the opportunity to rise to the occasion and excel. I believe that you have that ability. Which is why I am taking a chance on you, and promoting you to the role of my personal assistant.”

Lou watches your expression with the intensity of a vulture watching its next meal. He wants to see how you react to the offer. You’ve only been his intern for two and a half weeks, but he knows that one way or another, you’ll agree to the change in position.

He’ll make sure of it, because he has different plans for you now.

Your head tilts curiously, but you smile at him, close-lipped and cautious.

“It’s an honour,” you reply, and he can feel himself nodding in agreement with you.

You smell differently from Nina, but he likes it. Nina wears perfume, and sometimes a bit too much of it. Your scent is of clean skin and strawberry scented shampoo, light and natural.

Nina still sleeps with Lou, but she doesn’t comply easily. She disobeys him, and rolls her eyes when he gives her instructions in bed. She is a beautiful woman- particularly in how sharp she is, how vicious in her work- but he can’t control her, and what they have isn’t a relationship, not really, not like it should be.

You’re different. You’re careful and quiet and you take notes when he speaks to you. You listen to him, and you follow orders well and without fuss. You don’t seem to mind doing what he instructs you to, even when he tells you to drive faster, or do things other interns might find... questionable.

And you’re young, and you’re pretty.

When he realizes that he wants to have you, Lou does two things. First, he breaks up with Nina.

“Are you fucking with me?” Nina asks him, her eyes narrowing. They’re sitting at dinner, and it’s so similar a situation to when Lou first proposed a sexual relationship with her.

“The simple truth is that I have outgrown this relationship. In this world people’s needs change. I have more needs now, ones which you are not capable of meeting. As such, I am terminating our relationship immediately.” Lou takes a sip of his water.

Nina’s lips purse, as though she thinks it’s a trick. Lou can imagine the way the gears are turning in her mind.

“But you’ll continue to work with me on a professional basis... right?” She confirms apprehensively. “You’re our leading stringer, your work is-”

“Artistry. I’m aware,” She looks unsure, and Lou likes that. It will be a shame, not having her around when he wants her anymore, but he doubts he’ll ultimately miss it much. “As long as you continue to pay me at the rate you currently are. I know that KWLA 6 is now the most popular news network on morning television and I also know that the name of my business is starting to become known. Now, I’ll keep supplying you with the footage, but you should understand that I have no loyalty to your company, or to you personally.”

Nina’s expression settles into a frown. “You’re breaking off our- so that you don’t feel any guilt about just selling to the highest bidder?”

Sometimes, Lou thinks that maybe Nina comes close to understanding him. This is not one of those times.

“No,” He answers, with a chuckle to himself, “But I don’t need to sleep with you anymore, and I won’t have our arrangement limiting my or my company’s potential for growth.”

The second thing Lou does is install cameras in your apartment when he knows that you’re not home.

He has your address from the paperwork he made you and the other two interns fill out when you first started working for him, but he’s never been to your apartment before. A quick message sent to you asking you to pick up his dry cleaning, conveniently across the city from your place, and he has you out of the way.

Lou breaks into your home with ease. The main door to the building is unlocked, and with a twist of his lockpick and a satisfying click, so is the door to your apartment. Bag slung over his shoulder, he slips into the place, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Turning on the light, he looks around the room with an intrusive interest.

The place is small, just as small as his old place had been, before he’d moved. It’s neatly decorated, and it smells like you, and Lou digs his nails into the palm of his hand as he scans the main room. You have a bookshelf- he quickly notes your favourite author- and several small plants, but the apartment is scarcely decorated and plain. No photos of a boyfriend, he notes. Good, that would just be another obstacle to remove. It’s tempting to leave you a message using your fridge magnets, but Lou resists the urge and continues in.

A cat trods out from the bedroom, meowing at Lou. For a moment he freezes, staring at the animal, standing still as it brushes happily against his shin with a purr. He hesitates. Reaching down, Lou slowly brushes his fingers against the cat’s head, before withdrawing his hand and stepping delicately around the pet.

As much as he’d like to stay and search through your belongings, he has a job to do.

He’s leaving the apartment when he gets a text from you letting him know that you’ve picked up his clothes, and want to know where to drop them off. Checking his watch, Lou sends you a reply with his address before he gets into his car and drives home.

Lou is creating a file in his mind and filling it with notes about you. She has a cat. She likes to read. She has quite a few DVDs, with many of them being horror movies. It all factors into the way he’ll achieve his goal of luring you in, and Lou intends to do it the right way.

---

“Hi there,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s past nine PM now, and even though it’s certainly after hours, Lou knew you wouldn’t complain. And here you are, standing on his doorstep, holding his dry cleaning in hand. You’re even wearing a bit of makeup, he notices.

You must be as lonely as he is.

“Hello,” He replies, “I’m glad you’re taking this aspect of being my personal assistant in stride. In order to get ahead as a new employee, it’s important to go above and beyond the duties of the position.”

You nod, shifting from one foot to the other. Lou smiles.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks, and you hesitate. Lou waits, staring, until you acquiesce with another nod.

“Okay, maybe just for a few minutes. Then I should really get home.”

He takes the dry cleaning from you and leads you inside of his apartment, a nice one-bedroom he’d recently moved into where he has a larger television and marble countertops and more space for him to review footage. Besides the computer desk, and the place where his camcorder is hooked up, the apartment is filled with empty space.

Not much makes Lou’s heart quicken, but his mouth goes dry at the sight of you, alone in his apartment. He controls this space, possesses it, and here you are, a part of it- just as it should be. Lou feels a pleasant stir in his stomach at the way you glance around the room with your eyes wide.

He considers, for a moment, pushing you against the wall and pinning you there, to see how you’d react. He wonders idly if you’d scream, before he turns and hangs up the dry cleaning in the closet.

“Wow, this place is- it’s so like you,” You say, looking back to him. “It’s nice. No pets?”

“No,” He answers plainly, staring at you, “Not yet.”

It’s easy to imagine how you’ll slot into his life. He’s already picturing where in his apartment he’ll put your bookshelf.

“We should spend more time together,” He says to you, standing in his living room and facing you. “Outside of work. I’d like to see you here more often.”

“Oh,” you reply. Your eyes glance at him, and then the door, darting nervously. “You would?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Lou answers, taking a step closer to you. “I have wine. Red and white, for if I have company over. But you prefer red, don’t you? I can get you a glass.”

You shake your head then, making for the door. “Um, I... really should really be going. It’s getting late, and I drove here, so I can’t be drinking anyway.”

Lou pauses, looking at you for a very long moment. Then, he nods his head one, a knowing smile breaking across his face.

“Of course. Smart. It’s dangerous out there, you know. You’re a pretty young woman. And there are a lot of terrible men out there who might take advantage of that. You should get home.” He never takes his eyes off of you, not as he watches you smile softly, wave goodbye awkwardly, and scamper back out of the door.

The second you leave, Lou goes to his computer.

It takes about twenty minutes before the camera feed shows you enter your apartment. He set up two cameras, one in your living room, and one in your bedroom. He doesn’t need to spy on you in the bathroom or shower- that’s not the point of this invasion.

You throw your coat on the hanger and your purse on the counter, and you pick up your cat and spin him around in your arms- it’s adorable. Lou watches, rapt in attention as you set the cat down and roll your shoulders. He can see you sigh, even though the feed is silent, and you look tired.

He watches as you strip off your clothes, performing for no one as you root around for clean pajamas. Lou didn’t set up the cameras for sexual gratification- he wants to know exactly what you like, and see who you are when you think you’re alone- but it’s hard to deny that he feels pleasure knowing that he’s with you even when you don’t know it.

It’s hard to deny that there’s a thrill to the knowledge that he’s going to take everything that’s yours and make it his. Just like everything else, all it will take is some planning, a meticulous execution, and the will to make it happen.

And it would.

---

The first gift that Lou buys for you is a new coffee maker.

The one you have, he’s noticed, is horribly outdated and slow to brew. Through the cameras he’s watched you look longingly at new models on Amazon, always browsing, never purchasing. You’ve saved at least five to your wishlist, but you always exit out of the pages without placing an order. After studying the footage, Lou comes to the conclusion that you can’t decide which one to buy.

So he decides for you. Lou purchases an expensive model, a coffee maker even better than the ones you’ve been dreaming of, and has it express delivered to your door.

Lou is so glad when you don’t open the package outside, but instead carry it into your living room with a confused look on your face. Your mouth is twisted into a near pout, and your brow furrows as you turn over the box. When you grab a knife and open it up, Lou can’t help but smile at the shock that registers on your face at its contents.

You pull apart the box like it’s Christmas, gingerly taking out the new coffee maker and setting it on the counter. You stare at it for a long moment, incredulous, before noticing the note, just a thin slip of paper at the bottom of the box.

He can’t read it from the camera feed streaming from your apartment, but Lou knows what it says.

“Make the choices you want, and pursue them. LB.”

With Nina, everything he needed to know about her he could find online. With you, he needs to improvise, and pay attention. He’d googled you, of course, with few results besides an Instagram and Linkedin page. It’s only been a few days since he installed the cameras, but he’s already felt like he’s learned so much.

Things... hadn’t gone how he’d wanted with Nina. He’d wanted a relationship, someone to share a life with. He’d gotten little more than friends with benefits, and a reluctant one at that. Maybe this time, he would just have to be clearer with what he wanted from you, and be a little bit more patient.

You hold the paper up to your mouth, hiding, and he finds it difficult to read your expression. But maybe it’s just what he wants to see, but he thinks that you look pleased.

---

“Lou... I don’t know what to say about the coffee maker,” You tell him later that night. The two of you are sitting in the front of his car, parked on the side of the street. It’s been a slow night, and the police scanner crackles in the background, every so often announcing a DUI or petty theft. His other employee, Mikhael, sits in the back of the car on his laptop, editing footage, his headphones over his ears.

You’re sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning against the wheel.

“Say thank you,” He replies, smiling at you. You bite your lip, and grin at him. You’ve been using his name a lot more casually since you’ve been promoted, and Lou likes that.

“Fine. Thank you,” you answer. You seem to mull over your next words, the smile dropping from your face in contemplation before you speak. You seem apprehensive to broach the subject, but you continue. “But... how did you know I needed a new coffee maker?”

“You told me. Don’t you remember?” Lou says, feigning confusion and leaning in closer to you. “You told me that you couldn’t decide which one to get.”

Lou can almost see your thought process. He loves the way you consider his words, quietly to yourself, and he can tell that he’s convincing you, even when you know deep down that you never said a thing about it. You’re a clever girl, but so easily swayed.

“I... don’t remember,” You admit to him, so honest. “I was so surprised. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I like you.” This is romantic, Lou thinks to himself, like a scene from a film. “And now, whenever you make coffee in the morning, you’ll think of me.” He smiles in a way he thinks is pleasant, and he sees you look him over, half-unsure, half-appreciative.

“You know,” he continues, “I learned recently that people don’t really become addicted to caffeine. They develop a dependence on it, which isn’t the same thing. Caffeine is only actually slightly addictive as an actual substance. The symptoms of withdrawal are physically very mild, and drinking a lot of coffee rarely results in self-destructive behaviour. Instead, you become used to the presence of caffeine in your life. You come to take it by habit, and because you enjoy the positive benefits, including increased alertness and wakefulness. It’s the mental dependence on caffeine, the reliance on it being there to pick you up that creates the believe that caffeine is addictive.”

You listen to him, nodding along with his words. He finishes, “The dependence is far more psychological than physical. But it’s interesting. How people develop dependence on things like coffee. How they feel like they need it to even function, day-to-day. How they feel like they can’t live without it.”

You should be leaning in to share his space right about now. Or telling him how you will think of him, every morning when you make coffee. When you bring the mug to your lips and close your eyes, breathing in the smell of it, when you take that first drink and yawn. You should be flushing at the thought of it, but instead, you’re looking at your hands, fidgeting.

“Yeah. That is interesting, I didn’t know that,” You comment, and the silence that follows is thick and awkward, the only sound in the car the dull chatter on the police scanner. In the back, Mikhael clears his throat, and when Lou turns back to address him, his eyes dart from you to Lou.

“What is it?” Lou asks sharply. Mikhael points to the police scanner, one headphone on.

“2-6-7, suspect is a white male, approximately 6’2”, may be armed,” The voice on the scanner says. “10-524. Proceed with caution.”

Lou nods to you, and he doesn’t have to say a word. You turn the key in the ignition and his car roars to life. With a shift of the gear and your foot on the gas, you tear off down the street, speeding toward the destination. Lou readies his camera while he calls your coworker, his third and final employee, to come with the production van and meet you at the scene with all of his equipment.

You drive steady, careful as you pull out onto the highway. Lou checks his watch.

“We need to go faster. I doubt we’ll arrive before the police but if there’s a chance, we want to take it. At the very least, I want to see a body tonight.”

You comply, pressing the pedal down and accelerating. Your focus on the task, and your complete willingness to trust him and follow him into a dangerous situation is nearly distracting for him.

“Faster,” he tells you, even though you’re already going 10 miles over the speed limit. Part of him wants to make it to the location before the police arrive, or certainly earlier than any other news crew. But part of him wants to push you to drive faster, drive more dangerously, just to see if you will.

You barely spare him a glance as you accelerate even faster, switching lanes back and forth to pass cars in your way. In the back seat of the car, Mikhael curses under his breath as you fly past a car that honks loudly.

“We’re going to fast, we’re going to get pulled over-” He says anxiously.

“Not if all the cops are busy going to the same place we are. Left, make the next left,” Lou tells you, and you barely have time to put on your blinker before you’re sliding around the corner. From the back, Mikhael groans. Lou’s camera is ready with blank tape, and he passes the microphone to Mikhael in the back for him to carry out. It’s only another three miles before you reach your destination.

“Are we ready?” Lou asks the two of you. Mikhael nods, and you smile.

When you pull into the street where the home in question is located- a beautiful suburban house in the outskirts of the city- it’s before a cop car has arrived. As you throw the gear into park, you turn to him, beaming, breathless and proud, and he can tell you’re looking to hear you did well.

But now isn’t the time. Lou is already throwing open the door of the car and rushing to the scene, Mikhael close behind him. You stay behind, to run interference on the cops, who are just rounding the corner of the street.

He hopes you’ll be able to distract the cop for long enough that he can sneak around the back of the house.

---

“We did well tonight,” Lou says, looking to each of his three employees in turn. The four of you are together in the small office space he rents, each with a drink in hand. It’s been less than two hours since you arrived at the scene of the assault, and only half an hour since he left victorious, footage of a screaming argument and a bloody stab wound saved safely on the memory card.

Sitting in a circle of cheap folding chairs, he feels pride in himself, in this company of professionals he’s built. You’re quickly rising to be the video company with the most-used footage in all of central LA, and it won’t be long before the names Video Production News and Louis Bloom become famous in the wider news industry. “The footage we got is going to garner us a top spot tomorrow on a prime news network.”

“Which one?” Eve, his equipment manager, asks with an enthused look on her face.

“Whichever one pays the highest,” Lou answers. He points to you. “The two of us will stay late to edit the footage, and submit proposals to the top five news networks with the highest viewer counts. It’s time we started branching out from KWLA-6 and considering other options.”

You nod to him, and he feels the satisfaction of a job well done wash over him.

“I appreciate the dedication each one of you has to Video Production News. With your continued dedication and willingness to follow my business plan, we will continue to achieve success in the Los Angeles news industry.”

He always hopes that everyone will stay longer than they do, when the team goes out for drinks. It would help everyone grow closer if they were to spend time together outside of work, but first Mikhael excuses himself, and then Eve follows, both citing pets they need to feed and partners they need to return to. This time, though, you can’t excuse yourself to go home to your cat- you’ve already agreed to stay late and help him.

And when Eve and Mikhael leave, the two of you are alone again, and that suits him fine.

“You look pretty tonight,” He tells you, even though your hair is messy and you’re sweating from the lack of air conditioning in the office. “But you shouldn’t wear bright colours any more. I prefer you in dark ones. They suit you more, and compliment you better.” Lou smiles to you, like he’s shared highly valuable information with you and you should be thankful.

“Oh,” You reply, clearly surprised. You look down at your dress, and when you look back up, he notices that you look a little self conscious.

“Can you try to do that for me?” He asks. You hesitate, and then nod.

“I-I guess I can, yeah,” You say, cheeks colouring. And there’s that blush he’s been hoping to see. Lou remembers, suddenly, the way you’d looked at him on arrival at the scene of the crime, eager for praise.

“You did well tonight. I like that you drive faster when I tell you to,” Lou stares hungrily at the way your cheeks flush deeper. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or ashamed or aroused. “That you follow my instructions is one of the reasons I promoted you to my assistant.” He looks at your glass, nearly empty now, and refills it with wine. You take a nervous gulp.

“I used to sleep with the morning news director at KWLA-6,” Lou says, deadpan, and you choke on your drink.

“You did?” You ask, apparently too curious or stunned to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Were you- did she, um-”

“She came often,” Lou lies. “I was led to believe it was very pleasurable for us both. She was very attracted to me.”

“That wasn’t going to be my question, Lou,” you reply, a light laugh in your tone, “I was going to ask if she ended things, or if you did.”

“Oh. I did,” He answers seriously, “I took some time to evaluate my wants and needs, as well as what would be best for my company. I know it was difficult for her, but it was necessary to do.”

The air between the two of you is tense, heavy with a weight between you and you study him with interest as you ask, “Was it hard for you?”

Lou is thrown for a moment.

“I admired her, and I was looking for certain things when we started seeing each other.” Lou thinks about how honest he wants to be with you. He always finds it difficult to voice aloud his desire for company, or to address his loneliness. “What I’m looking for is someone who can be a partner to me, but also someone who listens to what I tell them. I want a relationship with someone that suits my needs. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” You answer, looking at your glass. You swirl the wine around in it. “I know what it’s like. To really want a relationship to be one thing, and have it end up as another.”

“It wasn’t hard for me. That’s the answer to your question. I want something else now,” He looks at you pointedly, just shy of telling you that he wants you. But he doesn’t have enough information about you yet- doesn��t feel as though he’s in an advantageous enough position to get what he wants.

Lou wants your back to be up against the wall before he makes his intentions abundantly clear. Figuratively, and perhaps literally. It’s difficult for him to avoid being direct with his desires, but being honest wouldn’t be the path to victory, not at this point.

No, he has to court you. Teach you to need him, too. Maybe this could even be considered your first date.

You’re blushing again, and you look down and away from him, clearing your throat. You set aside your glass of wine, and point to the computer. “We should, ah. We should work on editing. We have a lot to get done tonight if we want to make the morning news.”

Lou checks his watch. It’s a quarter past twelve in the morning.

“You’re right,” He says, and the two of you get to work.

---

The story hits with as much of a splash as Lou expected, and not on KWLA. Channel 11 News breaks the story, airing his footage and mentioning the name Video Production News before they do, and they pay 30% more than KWLA had offered.

Sitting in his apartment and feeling content, Lou watches your camera feed as he irons his clothes. You’re doing your hair and putting on your makeup in the bathroom, and you choose another light coloured dress to wear- though to be fair to you, you didn’t exactly know that he was watching.

He’s thinking about the effort you put into your appearance when he sees you step up to answer your front door. You look so put together and beautiful today. As though you’re preparing for a date with him, though you would wear black for that, not white. Lou can just imagine how easily he would pull the dress off of you, mess up that perfectly assembled look of yours, the way he’s grab a fistful of your hair and -

Wait. Wait. Who is that stepping in through the door?

A man, tall and fairly handsome, steps into your apartment, and he kisses you. Lou’s blood turns cold at the sight, and he stares, iron hot in his hand.

This is a problem.

---

So, here’s the thing.

The guy you’re seeing? He’s no good for you, Lou knows.

He’s sitting on a park bench with his sunglasses on, watching the people pass by with a detached interest. Lou sips his soda with a straw, keeping an eye out for you and the man you’ll be passing by him with. The afternoon sun is beating down, but the bench he sits on it partially shaded by a tree, and he’s glad for it since he hasn’t moved in about forty-five minutes.

It’s given him time to think, and to plan out his next move.

When he’d seen the man on the surveillance footage kissing you, Lou slowly set down his iron and unplugged it. He set aside his laundry, and pulled his hair up into a neat bun. Grabbing his laptop, one of his books and his keys, Lou left his apartment without another moment of hesitation or thought.

Lou drove to your neighbourhood, parking two blocks away and walking the rest of the distance to your apartment building. In the back parking lot, there were two cars parked in the visitor’s spots. Taking quick photos of the two license plates, Lou walked to a nearby coffee shop, and, making sure you and the stranger were not also there, set up his laptop to run the plates.

It didn’t take long before Lou was able to find out the name of your mysterious visitor. His name is Andrew Price, and he lives in a city about an hour and a half’s drive away from Los Angeles, which explains why Lou has never seen him before. His employment was listed as a freelance journalist, and scouring the internet for more information, Lou found a profile on a networking website where he listed his relationship status as single.

Not a boyfriend, then. Or he’s a cheater. Both give Lou a bit of hope.

When Lou checked the man’s instagram, he noticed Price had just posted a scenic photo several minutes prior, one that Lou could identify as being from a nearby park. There are no pictures of you on Price’s instagram either, he noticed.

Packing up his laptop, Lou went to sit by the entrance of the park. Now he’s waiting on the bench, a book that he isn’t reading in his hands, as he watches for you and this man to pass him.

A freelance journalist ? And not even a very successful one it looks like, at that. Why would you kiss a man like that? Someone who doesn’t even appreciate you enough to show you off as his to the world, who doesn’t even consider himself to be in a relationship with you?

Surely, that’s not what you really want. Surely, this man isn’t fulfilling your needs. Lou settles on believing that your loneliness has driven you to this stranger, and that it’s only because no better options had presented themselves.

But still, Lou doesn’t want to take any chances. He knows that the execution of a meticulous plan is the best path to success, and you’re too important for him to try a simple, straightforward approach. So much could go wrong, so easily.

He needs the upper hand, and he’s slowly starting to figure out how to get it.

In the news industry, framing is everything. It’s easy to make the audience believe whatever story that the network wants to push, or rework an angle to a narrative that sells better. It’s a manipulation, yes, and in some ways, a lie- but it’s a skill, and one Lou has been working on developing. It’s what the audience sees and the way that they see it that informs their views. And those views colour the way every story following is received.

And it’ll be the same with you.

Lou is in such deep thought about how he’s going to get you into this arms that he doesn’t even notice you until you call out to him.

“Lou? Is that you?” His head shoots up, and he stares, roused from his thoughts and nearly startled, despite the fact that he had been waiting for you. You look at him quizzically, with Price standing at your side, confused.

“Oh. What a surprise,” Lou smiles, and feigns surprise. His smile is nearly real when he thinks about how you called out to him. Chuckling lightly, he continues, “Looks like even on our days off we just can’t stay away from each other.”

Price’s eyebrows crinkle at Lou’s words, and you beckon him to follow as you approach. You seem genuinely happy to see him, and the sight of it knocks the wind out of Lou.

“Andrew, this is my boss, Louis Bloom. Lou, this is my, ah, friend, Andrew Price. He’s a journalist. You guys might have a lot to talk about.” You laugh gently, and Price sticks out a hand, stepping forward to shake. Lou looks at the outstretched hand, making no move to take it. After a moment of tension, Price retracts his hand, wiping it on his jeans.

“Must be a germ freak, huh?” He says, trying to keep the tone light. Price tilts his head to you. “She’s mentioned you. Says you’re a genius. I’d love to pick your brain some time, if you want to chat.”

A genius, Lou thinks, and he can feel his shoulders straighten at the praise.

“That would be interesting,” Lou deadpans, “Are you two on a date?”

Andrew laughs, and Lou catches a flash of something flicker across your face. Upset? Anger? Bitterness? Lou can’t quite place it, but it feels strangely familiar to him, like a reflection of the same darkness which lives inside of him, and it leaves him thrown. He wants to see more of it, whatever was.

But just as soon as he catches a glimpse of it, it’s gone, and you roll your eyes.

“Us? Date? We’d be terrible,” Price says, and you nod with his words, smiling half-heartedly.

“We should get going. Andrew’s only in town for a few more days,” You say. Something in you looks sad, and Lou is rocked by a violent, feral impulse to tear this man apart. He seems none the wiser.

Lou blinks, and forces away the impulse to smile.

“I’ll see you, then,” he says, and you smile to him as you wave goodbye.

That night, you and Price have sex in the living room. On the couch, not in your bed, and Lou hates how this man pleasures you in a way that is clearly satisfying for you. But he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, transfixed as you shed your clothes and help undress him. He watches, trying to memorize the way you react to what Price does, what seems to get the best reaction, so that when it’s him touching you, he can impress you with how good he’s able to make you feel.

He watches, chin in his hand, and then-

And then, you seem to look up, right at the camera as you come undone.

Lou follows soon after.

And afterward, he watches as you get up and go to the kitchen by yourself to make coffee, decaf. You stare at the coffee maker, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and then close your eyes, and Lou knows that you must be thinking of him.

---

Price is, as you had said, only in town for a few more days, so Lou’s window of opportunity is only open a hair’s width. With that said, he’s always felt like his best work has been done under pressure, and by Monday evening, he’s gotten everything in place.

First, he calls Price, using the phone number so helpfully supplied on his networking profile.

“Hello. This is Louis Bloom, we met the other day. We have a mutual friend,” Lou says when Price picks up the phone.

“Who?” Price asks, and then he says your name. “You’re her boss, right? Why are you calling me?”

“It’s important for you to come to my office right now. I need to talk to you about her,” Lou says. “Do you know the address? I found something out, and it concerns you. I want to speak to you about it in person.”

There’s a long pause, and Lou thinks for a moment that Price may not take the bait. But then, his curiosity- whatever it is in him that drove him to be a journalist- wins out.

“Yeah, alright. Can you give me the address? I’ll head over now.” Looking at the clock, Lou sees that it’s a quarter past six in the afternoon. Perfect.

And then, one text, Lou sends to you.

[Please pick up some new film for me and meet me at my office at 7pm. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Wear your navy blue dress - LB]

---

“Alright. You’ve got my attention. What is it that’s so important?”

Andrew Price walks into the small office space, shoulders straight and confident. He’s a fairly clean cut, attractive man, but he doesn’t love you, and Lou knows it. Hands shoved in his pockets, and a frown on his face, Price strides across the room to stand in front of Lou.

Lou sits at his desk, his cell phone in his hand.

“I know you’re sleeping with her,” Lou says calmly, “You don’t have to pretend you aren’t, I know that you are.”

Price scoffs, and looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And what if I am? You’re not her boyfriend, man. Just because you have a creepy little crush and you’re her boss doesn’t mean you get to control her. She can sleep with whoever the fuck she wants.” Scowling, Price shakes his head. “I knew it. She defended you, but I knew you were into her.”

“You’re right. I am,” Lou answers easily. Then he smiles. “And you mean that I’m not her boyfriend yet.”

Price leans across the desk, pushing himself into Lou’s personal space. He looks equally parts disgusted and unnerved, and Lou holds his thumb just over the call button on his phone, waiting for the perfect moment. He glances at the clock.

“I thought I was going to get some information coming here, but you know what? I think I’m going to leave here with some information to give.” Price leans away. “Is that all?”

“No,” Lou answers, and he hits call.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end asks as Price stares in bewilderment.

“There’s a man, he’s broken into my office- I- I think he wants to hurt me- this is Lou Bloom calling from 113 Main Street West, I’m very afraid for my safety-” Lou makes the panic in his voice real, waits for a second, and then starts to scream, deep and guttural from his chest. He shoves some heavy filming equipment off of his desk and then ends the call with a tap of his finger.

A moment of silence stretches between the two men. Quietly, Lou gathers his will.

“What the fuck-” Price starts, but he’s cut off as Lou slams his own face into his desk.

His nose gives a sickening crunch, and blood splatters out from it across the desk. Lou gasps at the sharp pain blooming across his face, fairly certain he’s successfully broken his own nose- and he knows what a broken nose feels like. Price watches in horror, taking a step back as Lou slams his face back into the desk a second time, this time knocking his tooth through his upper lip.

Blood is gushing from his nose, more than Lou expected, and it’s staining down the front of his shirt as he straightens. Quickly and definitively, Lou grips the collar of his shirt and rips it open. He takes two steps toward Price, who backs away from him.

“You’re fucking insane,” Price says, holding his hand up as if to tell Lou to stop coming closer. As if it would stop him. Grabbing his wrist and yanking the man forward, Lou smears some of his own blood from under his nose across Price’s knuckles.

It’s almost too easy. Lou looks at Price, standing and watching in shock, and then at the clock. He takes two measured steps backward, kicks the desk chair over, and slumps down against one of his cabinets.

He sits there for nearly two minutes, panting and waiting for the blood to stop flowing. Price seems to not know if he should leave or stay, and stares wide-eyed at Lou, and then at his hand, and then around the room.

He’s realizing just now, Lou thinks, what this will look like when the cops show up. But more importantly, how it will look when-

You enter through the door, wearing a navy blue dress, your bag slung over your shoulder. You freeze, and take in the scene, looking from Lou to Price. Your eyes are wide, horrified, and it seems that you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

“Oh, god,” Lou moans, “You need to leave, please, he went crazy-”

At the same time, Andrew starts to talk, his hands held out in front of himself again as he equivocates and tries to explain and excuse what you’re seeing.

“This isn’t what it looks like- this guy, he’s insane, he- I didn’t-” Price’s voice breaks, and he’s at a complete loss for what to say or do as you drop your bag and rush to Lou’s side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god? Lou? Lou, fuck, you’re bleeding,” You say, real panic in your voice as you kneel beside him and gently touch his face. Lou meets your gaze, and you’re close, you’re so close to him, and you smell so wonderful, and you wore the blue dress.

“Get out of here,” He says quickly to you, looking you in the eye. “And wait for the police to arrive. You need to be safe.”

Andrew Price sputters from the corner, and laughs a manic, shocked peel of laughter.

“You can’t honestly believe him, can you?” He asks, gesturing to Lou.

But you don’t get a chance to answer, because that’s when the police burst through the doorway, yelling, guns drawn.

A news story is all about framing. How a story looks to its audience is the most important thing in how they will receive it. And once that first image, that initial impression has formed in the audience’s mind, it can be incredibly difficult to change.

There are no security cameras running in Lou’s office, or at least not any that were running that night. When the police see the blood smeared across Price’s knuckles, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t swollen or bruised from hitting him. They arrest him on the spot, and you never leave his side throughout the entire process, not once.

Lou never thought he himself would become a story featured on the morning news, but he’s an adaptable man. Sitting upright in his hospital bed the next morning, his nose bandaged, his lip swollen, and one of his eye blackened, Lou watches the story play on the morning news.

Terrible camera work. Amateurs must have shot this, he thinks, as a shaky camera pans across his office, zooming in on his blood on the floor. There’s a shot of you at his side, escorting him to the back of the ambulance. He looks a mess: his hair is in his face, and his cheek already beginning to swell. But you’ve got your hand on his arm, and you look so concerned and scared for him that it makes his heart swell.

“Whoever filmed us didn’t do a very good job, did they?” You whisper, quietly latching the door behind you. In the second bed in the room, an elderly woman sleeps, and Lou notes your consideration as you lightly walk across the room to his bedside.

“No. If we had been filming, we would have gotten a much better shot of the office. If you film it through the window, you’d get a clear view of the camera and the blood on the ground,” Lou answers, annoyed. I couldn’t have set it up any better, he thinks, wincing as pain shoots through his face when he speaks.

Sitting beside him, Lou can see that you’ve changed clothes since last night, into a dark shirt and a pair of jeans- his blood must be all over the dress, Lou realizes. You lean in close to him, clearly still worried. For the first time in weeks, Lou wasn’t able to watch you go to bed. He wonders if you slept poorly.

“You okay?” You murmur, a hand touching his shoulder lightly. You look solemn and disturbed as you continue, “I can’t believe... I never would have thought Andrew would do something like that.”

Lou reaches up to brush the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear the way that you do when you’re nervous. “I was shocked too. He flew into a rage, talking about how he knew that I had feelings for you and saying that he wouldn’t let me near you.” Lou tells you this calmly, voice even and monotone as he recites the story he’s rehearsed in his head. “He knew that I wanted to be with you, and he attacked me. He broke my nose, and as you can see, did a good deal of damage otherwise.” Lou smiles to you, watching your eyes flick over your face.

“Do you?” You ask quietly, searching his expression.

“Do I what?”

“Want to be with me?” You reach out and take his hand softly in yours, and Lou feels triumph burning in his chest. He won’t even have to make the first move. It’s perfect.

“Yes,” he answers readily, “I like many things about you. The way that you listen to me, the way you wear your hair, the way that you smell. I like how attentive you are. I like that you always sit close to me,” Lou takes a breath, and notes the strange, almost alien feeling of nerves. “I’ve thought about kissing you a lot.”

“Just kissing?” You reply cheekily. You’re leaning in even closer, squeezing his hand.

“No,” Lou breathes, “Much more than kissing.”

“But we can start there,” You finish, before you close the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

You kiss so softly, so hesitatingly, and at first Lou matches your pace. He loves how unsure you seem to be, the way your lips press so lightly and chastely against his. He reciprocates, gently initially, but his patience quickly wanes and he deepens the kiss. Lou moves his lips more insistently against yours, kissing with more fervor.

Reaching up, he cups your face in both of his hands to hold you in place, and he continues to kiss you hungrily. You gasp for air between the kisses, and he nearly feels dizzy from his own lack of oxygen as he continues to press small, quick kisses against your lips, ignoring the ache spreading across his face. Every time you go to pull away, he kisses you again, not wanting to let you leave his grasp.

He wants to keep kissing you. He thinks that he wants to keep kissing you forever.

---

When you finally walk out of the hospital room, your heart hammering. Your face is flushed, and you make it halfway down the hallway before a grin spreads slowly across your face.

That wonderful, magnificent bastard, You think to yourself. That terrible genius. Look at what he’s done to get me.

You hadn’t even had to break things off with Andrew yourself.

Lou finally had you, but then again, you'd had him in your sights for a while.

Game, set, match.

---

You know about the cameras.

Of course you know about the cameras.

You’d noticed one shortly after Lou had sent the coffee maker to your house, small and hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. You’d suspected that he had feelings for you as soon as you were promoted, but the gift had been what cemented his intentions in your mind, and had first triggered your suspicion that he was watching you.

Searching through your apartment without making it look like you were looking for the cameras had been a bit tricky. You pretended to be cleaning, not wanting Lou to catch on that you suspected him. For a while, before you found the proof you were looking for, you had thought you were just becoming paranoid. Finally catching sight of the small black box with the pinhole-sized lenses had been equal parts a shock and a relief.

Lou is many things. He is vicious, he is ruthless, he is intent and will and a shameless drive toward achievement. But he is not exactly subtle.

You drum your fingers along the smooth wooden surface of Lou’s desk in the Video Production News office, and take a sip of your coffee. While Lou took several days off following his discharge from the hospital (a rarity for him) you had volunteered to put the office back in order. You’d successfully cleaned and rearranged the space, and now you were busy picking up the slack editing footage packages for the networks.

This leaves you in the office with Mikhael, who sits across the room skimming through police reports on his laptop. Although your eyes are on your computer screen, your mind is elsewhere, mulling over Lou and what had happened between him and Andrew.

You weren’t sure exactly sure what had gone down, but you doubted Andrew had attacked Lou out of jealousy over you. The taste of bitterness wells in your mouth, as thick and bitter as bile as you remember how long you pined after Andrew, and how badly you’d wanted him to be more than a friend with benefits. He’d never been interested in you romantically, so the thought of him flying into a rage over you seemed unlikely.

Not that you’d told the police that.

After all, Lou’s ruthlessness and willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed is part of what draws you to him, and what attracted you to him in the first place. You’ve never seen such ceaseless ambition and motivation in someone before, and certainly not directed toward you.

Maybe you should have been horrified instead of flattered when you noticed a small camera in your apartment, eye-level and stuck to the bottom of a shelf. Maybe you should be irate instead of thrilled when Lou tells you what to wear, or plainly tells you what he likes about you and what he wants you to change.

But you aren’t.

Lou is a predator, closing in on you with hunger in his eyes. But you’re no prey, and you’re just fine with getting backed up into a corner. You’re being maneuvered, but you’re right where you want to be.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

[Let’s go for dinner tonight. -LB]

You smile down at your phone, and wait a moment before you type out your reply.

[I’d like that. Is it a date?]

You wonder if you should tell him you know what happened with Andrew, or ask him how his injuries are. He answers your text almost immediately.

[Yes. -LB]

---

“Halibut are nocturnal animals. Did you know that? I was watching a documentary on nocturnal creatures earlier today. Animals that are nocturnal, rather than diurnal like most mammals, have a number of specific adaptations which allow them to better track and hunt and survive through the night, such as silent flight, heightened senses, and echolocation. Their circadian rhythms are also slightly shorter than diurnal animals.”

You take another bite of your fish, and nod to signify that you’re listening to Lou.

He smiles, and looks proud of himself, seemingly excited to share the information he’s learned. You really don’t care about the circadian rhythms of nocturnal animals, but he’s actually pretty cute like this- at least you think so, though you imagine other people might find his monotone, quickly-spoken monologues off-putting.

The restaurant you’re in in small but private, and the two of you sit in a booth toward the back of the room that provides ample seclusion from the other customers. Lou has a meal in front of him that he’s barely touched, instead choosing to focus his attention almost singularly on you. It makes you feel like you’re an ant under a magnifying glass. His stare burns you, in more ways than one.

His nose, though no longer bandaged, is still heavily bruised and broken, and his left eye shines black and purple. Even as battered as he is, Lou has clearly put effort into his appearance tonight. His hair is slicked back, and he wears a nicely pressed dress shirt and blazer. Across from him, you wear a dark red dress.

“We’re out a lot after dark. Do you sleep through most of the day after a night of work?” You ask him in between bites of your dinner.

“No. I sleep very little,” he replies, before he pauses, and then continues. “You strike me as the kind of person who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. And then, the kind who sleeps very deeply. Am I right?”

You feign surprise, and your stomach flips pleasantly as you imagine him watching you in bed. “Yes. You’re exactly right, Lou. How’d you know?”

Lou surveys you seriously. You can never predict what he’s going to say next, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s about to admit to you that he broke into your apartment. Instead, he leans in close, and speaks in a low voice, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I know this because I pay attention to you. I’ve told you that there are a number of things that I like about you, and I know you don’t need me to repeat myself. I think you and I are a good fit, both professionally and personally. You’re my employee, so we keep the same work schedules. You spend a lot of time with me already. We both live alone currently, and our lifestyles suit each other. Neither of us go out partying much, or drink excessively, and we both like to read. Think about it. I can provide enough income to support both of us, and if we live together, we can save money by commuting together. Also, I enjoy your company, and am very sexually attracted to you. The fact that you kissed me the other day implies you feel the same way. Am I wrong?”

You take a moment to digest Lou’s words, cheeks colouring at his boldness. “No, you’re not.” You pause. “You’ve really thought all this out? That you want a relationship with me?”

“Of course,” Lou answers. “It’s clear you would compliment me very well.”

“Half a week ago you were attacked by my ex... er, ex-friend because he wanted to keep you away from me. Now you want to be my boyfriend. You move pretty fast,” You reply glibly, with a smile.

Lou doesn’t smile back. “Why shouldn’t I? We both know what we want. Do you have any questions, or do you agree?”

You think for a moment. Lou is pressing forward without quarter, leaving so little room for argument. He leans forward, head slightly tilted, gaze vicious.

“A couple,” you say, “Are you allergic to cats?”

Lou leans back, shakes his head, and smiles. “No. And I like that you’re thinking ahead. Foresight is important in any relationship.”

You swirl your wine around your glass, and avoid Lou’s relentless eye contact. “About that. How serious are you about this?”

Lou looks confused. “How serious? I wouldn’t be proposing a relationship if I wasn’t serious about wanting it.”

It’s your turn to press. “You want it now, sure. But you’re not going to dump me in a few months if someone else who catches your eye comes along?”

Blinking once, deliberately, Lou shakes his head. “No. I’m rarely interested in people.” He pauses, and breaks the eye contact with you, and you sense a raw, blatant truthfulness in his words. “And it’s even rarer that I like them as much as I like you. I want... to relate to people. I want to have relationships and friendships. But most of the time I find it’s impossible. People end up being shallow, and petty, and wrong.” The bitterness in his words is clear. “They don’t listen to me, and they always inevitably make things... complicated.”

He seems lost, for a moment. You take his hands in yours gently, and smooth your thumb across his knuckles.

“I understand,” You murmur. “In a way. Relationships come easy to me. Getting people to like me, to trust me. But connecting on a deeper level... isn’t so easy.”

Lou’s attention snaps back to you, and he watches you like a vulture closing in on its dying prey.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend,” he implores, an unspoken threat lining his tone, the kind which you couldn’t even put words to if you tried. “Aren’t you?”

You nod. “I just have one question left.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take me home tonight, Louis Bloom?”

---

Louis does take you home. On the cab ride back to his apartment, his hand never once leaves the small of your back, as though he feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll vanish. He’s quiet for nearly the entire ride, as if he’s mapping out the night ahead in his mind, trying to anticipate how the evening will go so he has total control.

Silly Lou. If he wants total control, you’ll simply give it to him. He doesn’t need to work so hard for it.

Closing and locking the door behind you, Lou takes off his shoes and sets them aside, and throws his keys onto his counter. Now late in the evening, the lights from the city outside shine in from Lou’s uncovered window, and the room is silent, save for the sound of cars speeding by his apartment. Even with the room barely lit, you can see Lou watching you, and feel the way his focus sharpens and becomes carnivorous.

Your heart begins to hammer as alarm bells go off in your mind. Every instinct you have tells you that Lou is a threat, and it makes you feel absolutely wicked.

He walks across the room in slow, stiff strides, keeping his eyes on you. He stops in front of you.

“Take of your clothes.” He says, then walking past you, across the room. Lou picks up a camera from his computer desk, and turns back to you. “You can set them down on the couch. When you’re finished, follow me into the bedroom.” With those words, he disappears from your sight, heading into a room that you’ve never seen before, but you assume is the bedroom.

Quickly, you follow his instructions. You’re so nervous you feel nearly ill, and though you’d imagined many times how an evening with Lou would go, you didn’t expect this. Folding your clothes neatly as you disrobe, you feel bare and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t before. It was one thing to know Lou was watching you when you were naked through a camera. It was another to strip down in his home.

You walk lightly into the bedroom, stopping as you pass the threshold of the door. Lou stands at the end of the bed, his camera in his hands, watching. Moving swiftly, he snaps a photo of you as you stand there, feeling more than a little shy. You blink in surprise at the flash, and swallow your nerves.

“Good,” He says. His eyes rake over your body. “You’re perfect. Lay down on the bed.”

“Okay,” You reply breathlessly.

You’re pretty sure your entire body is blushing. Gingerly, you crawl up onto Lou’s bed, and lay back on top of his smooth, navy blue sheets. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch him raise the camera again.

“Spread your legs,” He orders, “I want to see you.”

Shivering, you let your legs fall open, glancing off to the side as he snaps his second photo. His stare is too intense- you’ve never felt more naked in your life. Looking back to him, you can tell how aroused he is at a glance, and it’s pleasing to know that he’s more affected by you than his expression would let on.

Lowering the camera, Lou walks around to the side of the bed. He takes your wrist carefully in his grasp, and moves your arm so that it is placed over your head. When he lets go, you keep it there, and Lou smiles wistfully at you, a pleasant hum of approval escaping his throat.

“You look worried,” He notes, “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You answer truthfully.

“Open your mouth slightly and look at the camera.” You do as he demands, and he snaps his third picture. With that, he lowers the camera and places it on the bedside table, seemingly satisfied.

Hastily, Lou crawls over you, onto the bed. Hovering over you he looks down at you for a long minute, his hands on either side of your head, his body caging you against the bed. You are, in every manner of the word, trapped.

Lou moves his head down, and kisses you, fervent and victorious.

By the time Lou finally touches you, you’re more than ready for him. His touches and movements are clumsy, and not necessarily skilled, but your skin feels set alight by him. Every press of his fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and every kiss pressed to your skin another wave of satisfaction. His eagerness and your attraction to him makes up for anything that he lacks in his technique, and your body responds to him gladly.

As he is with everything, Lou is ferocious and unyielding, and his claiming of you is nothing short of a conquest. Exactly as you'd wanted. Exactly as you'd planned.

After, you lay beside him, shivering and sweating. Lou uses his hand to push his bangs out of his face, and looks from the ceiling, to you. For once, you find his gaze warm, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

A moment of silence passes. You and Lou pant and relax into the space, and he lays an arm affectionately across your waist. It’s such a peaceful moment that you think it must be just about time that you lay all of your cards on the table.

“You know, next time, we should just have sex in my apartment. That way, instead of taking pictures, you can just review the footage from the cameras you set up.”

You keep your tone nonchalant and easy, but you can feel Lou stiffen beside you. His arm, which had been relaxed, now grips you tightly, and he turns to stare at you fully, eyes wide and wild.

Your heart is in your throat as you watch Lou’s mouth twitch. You can almost feel him assessing whether or not you’re a threat to him, can see him trying to understand how this changes things.

He may be wondering if he’s going to need to hurt me, you think.

“Excuse me?” He whispers, voice low, and you have to swallow a laugh at his incredulousness. If this situation wasn’t so tense, it would be funny.

Carefully, you reach over and cup his face in your hands. You admire him openly, smoothing your thumb across his bruised cheekbone and looking over his injured features. You absolutely delight in him, and make no attempt to hide it.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I’m on your team,” You whisper back, smile bordering manic. “I know about all of it. I've known. Okay?”

He continues to stare at you, silent, assessing.

“All of it?” He repeats hesitantly. You nod.

“We’re going to make a great couple, don’t you think?” You ask him, and his expression remains unchanged, still disbelieving and suspicious.

And then, Lou surges forward and kisses you so suddenly and forcefully that you feel as though all of the air in your lungs has been knocked out of you. Pressing his mouth to yours, consuming, Lou wraps his arms around your body, and holds you to him as if you were his life line.

---

“He had you pose as a grief counsellor to speak with the victim’s family. No ethical news source is going to accept this.”

Nina Romina sits in front of you. It has been several weeks since you first went home with Lou, and you’re sitting across from Nina in her office, your hands folded in your lap. She holds a sample of your interview, typed out into a manuscript, which contains several juicy details about a double homicide that even the police hadn’t been able to gather.

“That’s why we’re bringing it to KWLA 6,” you reply smoothly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed Lou’s contributions.”

Nina’s mouth presses into a thin line, and she says nothing.

“You haven’t said no,” you add, and she glares at you.

“Print journalism is dead. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that he sent you instead of coming here himself. And don’t think that I don’t know exactly what is going on between you two.” Nina snorts, looking away. She’s irked. You shrug off her comments, knowing that her annoyance means she’s probably going to take the deal you’ve laid out for her.

She looks back down at the papers in her hands, and then to you. She seems to consider something, and her expression softens.

“You know, I really do feel for you. This is good work, and I know that Lou is using you. He has a way of... making people do what he wants them to. Blackmailing them, bullying them, whatever he can do to get what he wants, he does it. There’s something seriously wrong with him. I don’t know what he’s done to you. But... I could maybe pull some strings. Get you a job here, instead. Get you out of there” She looks at you expectantly.

You stand up, and smooth out the wrinkles of your dress. A wry smile spreads across your face.

“Ms. Romina. I think you’re confused about my relationship with Lou.” You can’t stop the way your smile widens, “I know what your relationship with him with him was like, so I can understand why you would be. But I assure you, Lou has never asked me to do anything I’m not comfortable doing, both during and outside of work.”

You pause, amused by the shock in her expression at your sudden change in tone. Just moments before, she had believed you were harmless, like most people do when meeting with you. You continue cheerily.

“Lou is my boss. And he’s my partner, among other things. A word of advice to you: don’t presume that you know anything about us. Now, on this interview we’ve presented you with today. You and I both know that you’d be posting it as an article online, so don’t give me this ‘print is dead’ bullshit. We also both know that your ratings have dipped ever since Lou started exploring other networking options. We’d be open to negotiating an exclusive contract with you... on our conditions, and our pricing. So... can Lou expect a call from you later today?”

A long, tense moment stretches between you, before warily, Nina says, “Yes, he can.”

“Excellent.” You reply, taking back your copy of the interview sample from her hand. As you turn to leave, you hear Nina speak from behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” Nina breathes, shaking her head. “Who the fuck are you?”

You pause at the doorway.

“I’m just the assistant.” You reply, leaving without sparing her a second glance.

#lou bloom #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #slasher fic #slasher x reader #my writing #horror/romance #dark fic #louis bloom #lou bloom x reader #tw stalking

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 1 year

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Words: 7,335 (oooh a big one!) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: mostly FEELS A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 6 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: Daryl takes DJ out for a bike ride and later he and Y/N head out to find desperately needed supplies for Alexandria.

Previous Chapter - Part 5

“Alrigh’,” Daryl said, pulling his crossbow from its place on his bike. “Yer up, boss,” he drawled with a smile. DJ was standing there with his recurve bow in hand looking eager. “Yer mom said ya know how to track and hunt. So, where are we headin’?”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl nodded. “’M followin’ you. Hopefully to some breakfast...”

DJ’s expression turned more serious and he glanced around and started to head into the trees, checking back over his shoulder as if to make sure Daryl was really coming with. They moved through the brush in silence for a few minutes, and Daryl watched curiously as DJ would pause here and there. Suddenly he turned back to look over his shoulder and there was a bright smile on his face. “Rabbit!” he whispered, pointing ahead.

Daryl leaned around him and could see a small game trail going through the brush and brambles. He gave DJ a nod as if to say “Go on” and he did.

Before long, the trail led into a small meadow, really hardly more than just an opening in the trees. The grass with thick and folded over on itself, blanketed with moisture still in the early morning.

The cottontail was sitting on the edge of the trees across the tufted hillocks of grass, chewing on a tuft of dandelion leaves. Daryl watched as DJ readied his bow and started to step silently toward the rabbit until he could get an angle when he could make the shot.

But he took one step too close and there was a flash of brown and a puff of fluffy white tail and the rabbit was gone in an instant. DJ’s shoulders sagged. He turned and looked back at Daryl, disappointment painted all over his face.

“Hey—s’alrigh’. He ain’t goin’ too far in this brush. Look, rabbits are prey animals, right? Their first defense is to freeze and hope the predator, us, don’t see ‘em. So, if ya want to get closer to ‘em, instead of walkin’ straight at ‘em, ya wanna go kinda sideways, at an angle. That way they’ll think ya don’t see ‘em and they’ll sit frozen longer. C’mon. Let’s try again.”

DJ nodded and Daryl smiled at the intent and serious look on his face as he turned around again and started the slow, methodical task of finding the rabbit again. He did, and this time he made the shot.

He turned around, beaming up at Daryl who was smiling back at him, a swell of pride in his chest. “That’s it. Ya got it. Nice shot, bud!”

DJ went and retrieved his game, holding it up by the back feet. “Is this enough for Mom for breakfast?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. But ain’t enough for me too,” he drawled. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can get a couple more for everybody. And I’ll set some new snares as we go. Know how to do that?” DJ nodded. “Good. Ya can help me. Nice work, bud,” he said kindly, patting a hand down on his shoulder. DJ seemed to beam at that.

With a little luck, they were able to get two more rabbits and also set several snares to check for game later that day when you and Daryl went back out. Daryl had the kills on his game stringer, slung over his shoulder as they headed back in the direction of the bike. He thought he could feel DJ glancing up at him and he finally met his eyes and gave him a thoughtful look.

DJ seemed to take it as an invitation to ask whatever he was thinking. “When did you learn to ride a motorcycle?” he asked.

“Well—I was pretty young. My big brother had a bike. He taught me how to ride. Then it wasn’t long before I wanted to get my own.”

“Hmm,” DJ hummed thoughtfully, looking down at his boots as he stepped carefully over some thorny brambles. “You have a big brother?” His eyes met Daryl’s again.

“I did. Yeah… I did,” Daryl answered, nodding. “He, uhh—he ain’t around anymore. He ain’t been around for a long time. He was gone even before I—” What should he call what happened to you and him? “—before I lost yer mom.”

“Do you miss him?”

Daryl had to think about this for a long moment. “I do miss him sometimes. He wasn’t always the best big brother but he was the only one I had, ya know?”

DJ hummed thoughtfully again, and it was then that Daryl recognized that this mannerism was identical to his own. This brought another smile to his face.

“What was his name?” asked DJ, so intent on Daryl that he neglected to step over some downed tree limbs and stumbled. Daryl reflexively reached out and caught him gently but firmly by the upper arm, preventing him from falling.

“Ya alrigh’?” DJ nodded. Daryl let go of his arm as he straightened up. “His name was Merle,” he answered.

“I would have had an Uncle Merle,” DJ said thoughtfully. “I did have an Uncle Merle.”

And this thought, this picture in his mind of his brother as an uncle, brought a gruff laugh out of Daryl. DJ gave him another questioning look. “S’just a funny image—my brother as an uncle,” Daryl explained. “He wouldn’ta believed it…”

DJ didn’t ask anything else for quite a while but the thoughtful expression stayed on his face as he walked beside Daryl. Finally, they arrived back at the bike, and Daryl was strapping the gear down and stowing their kills, and DJ spoke again. Daryl was bent over fiddling with a strap when DJ’s voice sounded behind him. It snapped him up to his feet.

“Were you looking for us?” DJ asked. His face was uncertain, almost suspicious this time. “I mean, me and Mom.”

Daryl brushed a hand back through his wavy hair and stopped right in front of DJ. He knelt down on one knee so he was eye-level with him. “I was always lookin’,” he said.

DJ’s brow furrowed. Daryl thought maybe he was holding back tears. “Then why didn’t you find us? If you’re so good at—at tracking and fighting and everything, then why didn’t you find us?”

Daryl gulped, a wave of crushing guilt upwelling in his chest, pressing on his lungs, stopping them from drawing full breaths. He shook his head slightly. “I lost the trail. I—I didn’t have a trail to track.” He stared down at his own hands, fiddling anxiously. “Listen to me DJ.” He met his son’s eyes again. “There ain’t nothin’ in this world that I want more than to be able to go back and stop all that from happenin’—stop gettin’ separated from you and yer mom, be able to protect both of ya from everythin’ bad that ya’ve ever had to go through. Nothin’ I want more. Nothin’. I’d give up anythin’ to make that happen. But I can’t do that… It just ain’t how things work. But ya can bet I’mma make up for it now as best I can. I promise ya that. And when I make a promise, I dun ever break it. Okay?”

DJ sniffled and blinked away the tears in his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Alrigh’?” Daryl put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and DJ nodded again. “Alrigh’. Let’s go give yer mom her breakfast. Ready for another ride? Helmet.”

DJ pulled on the helmet and tightened the chin strap. Daryl smiled at him fondly. “Can you go extra fast this time?” DJ asked and Daryl laughed again.

“You got it, bud.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You heard the rumbling of Daryl’s bike before you saw it and you climbed to your feet. He looked up to see you waiting outside the garage with a megawatt smile on your face that had his heart jumping like someone had connected it to jumper cables and turned the ignition. The sight of DJ and Daryl on that bike together… it warmed you in the best way, better than a cozy fire, better than hot chocolate—it warmed you from the inside out and the heat trickled into your veins and spread through you, head to toe.

“Well,” you said, still grinning and stepping toward them as Daryl helped DJ off the bike. “How’d it go?”

DJ was bursting with enthusiasm. “We went so fast on the bike, Mom! And then when we went over this bump—” he made a dramatic whoosh sound, “and it felt like I was gonna fly off the seat and—”

You were laughing at his excitement. You hadn’t seen him so brimming with life since before your home had fallen. “Sounds like a good ride.”

“Hey!” Daryl called from back by his motorcycle. “Aren’t ya gonna show yer mom what we brought for her?”

“Oh, yeah!” DJ ran back and Daryl handed him the game stringer with the three rabbits on it. He rushed back to you, holding it up proudly. “We got you breakfast!”

“Oh, all for me?” you asked, grinning. “Wow. How lucky am I? Thank you,” you said, accepting it from DJ who rushed back into the house to put his pack and bow away. You caught Daryl’s eyes as he came toward you. “Thank you,” you said again, pointedly.

Your eyes were so soft and the subtle pout of your closed lips was distracting as hell. He ducked his head and nodded, scratching at a non-existent itch. “Yeah…” he murmured. “Where are the kids?” he asked.

“Over at Rosita’s already,” you said, following him in. “She said they can stay there as long as we’re gone. If they need a break, they’ll send them over to annoy Jerry.”

“I dunno if it’s possible to annoy Jerry,” Daryl drawled. “Hey—let’s get some food in ya,” he said, taking back the rabbits and heading to the kitchen.

“And you,” you said, following him in.

Daryl immediately set about cleaning the game and you watched the skillful and quick work of his knife and hands with another flush of heat that was hard to ignore. “What’d ya get up to this morning?” he asked.

“Well, I took Jude and RJ over to Rosita’s. Cuddled Coco so she could take a shower,” you laughed. “Then they stayed there to play with Hershel and Gracie so I went and found Carol to see how I could be helpful.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed. “Yeah? I hope ya ain’t workin’ too hard yet. Ya had quite a time out there lately, ya know. Wouldn’t kill ya to rest a bit.”

You smiled at him and watched how his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked. “Do you ever rest?” you countered. “I mean, really rest.” He hummed a non-committal sound. “Exactly,” you said, stepping farther in and filling a pot with some water at the sink. You automatically started adding the bones and scraps to it and then opening and closing cabinets until you found some seasonings.

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder as you were reading the labels on the little jars of spices and herbs. “What’re ya doin’?”

“Huh? Oh. Making bone broth. Obviously,” you retorted, shooting him a look with that little smirk he fucking went head over heels for. “We need to use every bit of these so we can to get some more nutrients into everyone.”

Daryl was stirred by how you seemed to just slip into his life so automatically and just fit again. You did little things, like taking over the task of using the bones and scraps without him having to tell you a damn thing. And it felt like you’d always been there somehow, that’s how easy it was, despite being keenly aware of the fact that he’d been missing you just about every fucking second practically for the last ten years… “Well, ain’t enough for ev’rybody but at least for the kids,” he drawled. “Could really use a couple deer but there ain’t any sign of ‘em still since that damn horde came through.”

You set the pot on the stove, ready to go once the last of the scraps were added. “That’s why we’re heading out,” you said with a sigh. “We’ll find something. I know we will.”

“Yeah…” Daryl drawled. He went to the sink and washed off his hands before glancing over at you where you were leaned up beside the stove. “Ya know ya ain’t gotta head out with me,” he said, ducking his head. “If ya wanted to stay here in Alexandria, ‘m sure there’s plenty to do ‘round here.”

Your brow furrowed. “Do you not want me to come along?”

Daryl’s eyes went slightly wide. “W—what? No. That ain’t it—I—I just—Ya know, how shit is out there and—”

You cocked your head at him. “Yeah, I do know how it is. That’s exactly why I’m coming with, Daryl,” you said earnestly. You watched as his cheeks flushed and he ducked his head again, nodding a little.

“Can ya do me a favor?” he murmured.

“Name it.”

“Could ya just—s’gonna sound stupid but could ya just, uhh—just say my name again.”

There was a pang in your chest as you looked at him as his blue eyes lifted to meet yours again. They were almost pleading and more than a little hesitant. You gave him a sad sort of smile and crossed the kitchen to him, gently grabbing on to one side of his jacket. “Daryl Dixon. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl,” you said, a brighter smile growing on your face each time you said it.

His eyes flickered between yours, even more wide now with you so close. He gulped at the tightness in his throat. “I didn’t realize how much I missed hearin’ ya say my name,” he said softly. You felt the sudden sting of tears in your eyes and goosebumps tingled from electricity up your back.

“Hey, Mom?” DJ was in the doorway when you turned around abruptly, blinking the glassiness away.

“Yeah? Hey, do I get a hug?” you asked him. He obliged and hugged you tightly around the waist. “Thank you. What’s up?” you asked, ruffling his wavy hair.

“Can I go see what Hershel is doing?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. He’s over at Aunt Rosita’s with Jude and RJ and their friend Gracie. I can walk you over.” You glanced up at Daryl.

“I got this. Breakfast’ll be ready by the time yer back,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth flicking up.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“It’s always hard leaving them,” you mused aloud. You and Daryl had your gear gathered and stowed and were heading over to Rosita’s again to say goodbye to the kids.

“Yeah,” Daryl drawled. “They’ve all known enough of people leavin’, one way or another.” He thought of Rick and Michonne and felt a familiar knot in his stomach.

Maggie was coming down the steps after picking up Hershel when you arrived. She smiled warmly at the two of you. “Rosita said you two are headin’ out. Lookin’ for supplies.”

You nodded. “Probably be away a couple days.”

“Alright. I’ll look in on the kids too while you’re both gone, give Rosita and Gabe a break.” She gently grasped your forearm and looked Daryl squarely in the eyes. “Be careful.”

You nodded again. “We will. Don’t worry. We’re going to stay far the hell away from—from them,” you said.

Maggie nodded and her hand returned to Hershel’s shoulder. You bent down and adjusted his signature cap on his head.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said to him, the corners of your eyes were crinkled in a smile.

“Promise?” Hershel said.

“As soon as I can.”

“Hey,” Daryl held out a hand for a fist bump and Hershel grinned as they touched knuckles. “Do me a favor and watch out for RJ and yer mom, alrigh’?” Hershel nodded. “Alrigh’.”

Gabriel answered the door even before you could knock. With as reassuring words as you could offer, and plenty of hugs all around, you and Daryl got ready to leave. DJ seemed a little dejected as you broke from your hug with him.

You noticed, of course, and brushed his hair out of his eyes, your brow furrowing. “What is it, buddy?” you asked him softly.

He glanced up at you and then over at Daryl for a long moment who was distracted as he was setting RJ back on his feet. “I just got—got you back and—You know, after being in the woods and—” he stopped and pulled in a shaky breath. “You’re leaving again already.”

You wondered how much of this was about you and how much of it was about his dad. You nodded. “I know. I wish we didn’t have to go too. But things here in Alexandria are tough right now. We’re going out there so we can help everyone back here, so we can all stay here. We’ll be as fast as we can,” you reassured him.

“Can’t I come with?” he asked.

You gave him a tight smile and smoothed his hair again. “Not this time buddy. Stay here and hang with Hershel and Jude and RJ. Have fun and watch out for them. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

He sighed. “It takes as long as it takes,” he recited.

“That’s right.” You kissed the top of his head and straightened up. Daryl was beside you a moment later and said a sweet goodbye to DJ too, thanking him for help with getting breakfast.

“I got a big ask for ya,” Daryl drawled, looking down at DJ. “Need ya to help Jude look after Dog. He can be a bit much.”

DJ brightened. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Make sure he dun eat too much dead stuff and gets his exercise, alrigh’? Oh, and he likes to sleep on the bed,” he added with a smile. “Can ya handle that?” DJ nodded and did actually look less gloomy. “Alrigh’,” Daryl said with finality, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey—dun worry ‘bout yer mom, alrigh’? Remember what we talked about,” he said, referencing their talk that morning at the bike and the promise he’d made. DJ nodded again and you stooped to give him one more hug, extra tight, before you and Daryl headed outside to head back to his bike.

He felt you glancing over at him and finally looked up and caught your eyes. “What?”

“What talk was that, with DJ, that you mentioned?”

Daryl was silent for a moment. “I think that one should just stay between me and him,” he said finally, hazarding a somewhat nervous glance at you again. “He asked me somethin’ this mornin’ and—I answered best I could. Ain’t nothin’ to worry about,” Daryl said.

But instead of pressing him or being upset, you only smiled. “Keeping secrets from me already. I see how it is,” you laughed. You nodded thoughtfully though. “Alright. Then I won’t worry,” you said with a shrug. “You have any idea of where we should go look?” you asked him, your mind now turning wholly to the stressful task of finding sustenance to help heal their wounded community and get it through a bit longer. You’d seen the empty pantry with Carol and you’d walked through the damage and destruction.

“Had a thought. Take the tracks west and see what we can find. Might be a bit of a ride though, to get outta our usual area.”

“I won’t mind the ride,” you said, glancing sideways at him, a subtle smile on your lips that Daryl tried to decode. You were thinking of having your arms around him… and so was he.

It was a long ride after stopping to check the snares Daryl and DJ had set that morning (two more rabbits), and before the ride was supposed to be over, it suddenly was. Daryl’s bike sputtered and slowed to a stop. He tried to restart it but the engine had no power. You leaned forward to his side. “What’s going on?”

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip. “Somethin’s fucked,” he drawled, irritated. “Hang on.” He climbed off and offered you his hand to help you down. His fingers stayed around yours just a fraction longer than they needed to and you both felt it, but he quickly rerouted his attention back to the motorcycle. It wasn’t long before he spotted the problem. “This line’s punctured.” He straightened up, pushing a hand back through his hair. “Goddammit…” His blue eyes were darting around your surroundings. “We’re gonna have to find some new tubing so I can replace it. Fuck.”

He was more on edge than you would have anticipated. “Hey,” you said, touching his arm so he’d look at you. You gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We’ve got this. So, we patch up your bike, and depending on how long that takes, we just find somewhere to hole up tonight and we start fresh tomorrow.”

Daryl shifted, considering your relaxed expression and calm demeanor and he tried to convince himself to settle down, but he was having a hard time getting a hold of his swirling anxiety. Something about being out here with you, alone, it was forcing him to remember the one big thing he absolutely had to tell you, and he didn’t think he could put it off much longer, but he was absolutely terrified of what it could mean. Seeing you again, it was like having a mouth of cool water after walking through fire and ash, like washing the soot from his skin and his eyes and breathing lungfuls of sweet fresh air. And that could all disappear… He finally managed to nod and clear his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, alrigh’. Let’s see what we can find ‘round here.” With that, you both grabbed your gear off the bike and started walking down the tracks, eyes scanning through the brush and trees for buildings and vehicles. Daryl was on his guard, tense and alert, even more so than usual. His mind kept envisioning some vague threat charging through the trees right toward you. But beside him, you seemed almost at ease.

“So,” you said suddenly. “How far did you get in my book?”

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t make it much past the baby pictures, to be honest. I just couldn’t stop lookin’ at him,” he drawled. “He was so small and then—those cheeks,” he laughed. You were relieved to see that his brow seemed to relax some as he turned his attention to your question. “Couldn’t stop wonderin’ how ya managed all that.” Your eyebrow lifted in a silent question. “Just—what ya already told me. Gettin’ outta the city… Bein’ alone and knowin’ ya were pregnant. Managin’ to get what ya needed so he’d be healthy and you’d be healthy…” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Even when I told myself ya were out there, I was too afraid to think—I didn’t know what to think ‘bout the baby. So, I just… I didn’t. I mean, I did but—I think part of me felt like that was too much to ask for, for ya to be out there and okay and alive and for everythin’ with the baby to have gone alrigh’… I dunno. I know that dun make any damn sense. But I was makin’ bargains with the universe in my head a lot of the time, insane bargains…” he trailed off. “Prob’ly a good thing the universe doesn’t seem to listen to me,” he said with a wry laugh. “Mainly I just didn’t think ‘bout it. Was too hard, ya know? Us havin’ just found out and then…” he trailed off again.

“I was lucky,” you said softly, being careful to step over an uneven railroad tie.

Daryl gave you a skeptical glance. “All of us had a little luck here and there. But out here? This long? Ain’t nobody who’s just lucky around anymore. That ain’t enough. Yer smart and tough. And I know ya never quit fightin’ for DJ. Ain’t got much to do with luck.”

You fell silent again until Daryl spotted an old car through some trees and he adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “Here. This way.” You followed him off the tracks.

He immediately tossed down his stuff and popped the hood as you walked a small perimeter around the area, scanning for trouble, your bow in your hand with an arrow nocked already, just in case. It was quiet and still. Daryl was touching this and that under the hood, tugging on some tubing, deciding it was too brittle or too big, swearing under his breath. You were smiling at the scene. When you’d been apart, you often had imagined a life with him outside of this world. You’d have a little cabin somewhere and Daryl would build customs bikes and fix cars for people in town. DJ was there of course, hunting and playing in the woods, swimming in turquoise, crystal-clear lakes.

Daryl caught the smile on your face as he decided the first vehicle was useless. His heart jumped. “What’re ya smilin’ about?”

You shrugged. “I just—I always liked watching you work on bikes and stuff. It’s good to see it again, you working with your hands to solve a simple problem.”

Daryl hoped he wasn’t blushing red and let out a dry laugh. “Not sure how simple any of it is out here. Hopefully we can find what we need.”

“We will. I’m not worried. Come on,” you said, tilting your head. “There are more cars over here.”

You were right. Daryl was able to find some tubing that would work, but not without a tiny bit of trouble. As he was searching, walkers started to wander toward the two of you. Not too many, but enough where you had to be focused on putting them down as they came in as a steady stream out of the trees. When there was a break and you were collecting your arrows, your voice interrupted Daryl’s scavenging. “Daryl… come take a look at this.”

You were standing in the middle of the fallen walkers, looking down at one at your feet. He shoved the tubing into his pack and came over, hand on the hilt of his knife. You met his gaze as he stopped beside you.

“They’re all in military uniforms,” you said, glancing around again. “All of them.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “Mmm…”

“You think there’s a base or checkpoint around here somewhere?” you asked. “Seems like something.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Could definitely be somethin’.”

“They were all coming in from that way,” you explained, nodding ahead into the trees where the brush and understory between them was more open. “What do you think?”

Daryl considered it thoughtfully for a moment. “I think it’s gonna be dark soon, but if this is somethin’, food and maybe weapons, we gotta follow the trail while we’ve got it.”

You nodded. “Just what I was thinking. Follow it as long as we can and then find somewhere to spend the night, hopefully close to whatever this is.” You started to pat down the bodies for anything useful and Daryl did the same. You came up with a few MREs and some multitools as well as some ammo and magazines for automatic weapons.

You moved off into the trees, and it wasn’t long before you were met with more walkers stumbling through the woods in fatigues. Daryl watched as you used your knife to put down one that was reaching for you. Your movements were precise and strong, but somehow still almost graceful. He took out another one that was approaching with his crossbow. A few more hundred feet and the two of you stepped out of the woods and stood looking at a grassy area, and beyond it an expanse of asphalt, fenced with chain link topped with razor wire. There were quite a few large warehouses and the surrounding area was littered with rusting and abandoned Humvees and Jeeps, scattered with other detritus along with corpses in camouflage uniforms of the national guard or army. One small section of fence was down and Daryl eyed it. “Guess the few that are left have been gettin’ out through there,” he drawled, pointing to it.

You took a few more steps forward, your eyes focused on the buildings. “Is it too much to hope for that no one else has raided this place?”

Daryl hummed a vague “I dunno” sort of noise and shrugged. “It is outta the way. S’off the tracks, not a highway. Kinda tucked back here. Military probably thought that was safer for avoiding the hordes that used the roads once they came outta the cities lookin’ for food.” He considered the dark and dirty windows in the fading light. “Still… we gotta be careful. See what we see first. Could be groups holed up in here or who the hell knows.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You fingered your knife in its sheath again. “Come on.”

Daryl followed as you head toward the downed section of fence. There were a few walkers wandering aimlessly in the open space between the debris and broken-down military vehicles. You both worked to clear them and then Daryl stopped beside you again. He swung his pack off and pulled out a pair of binoculars, focusing them on the nearest building.

“Anything?” you asked after a quiet minute where he seemed to be scrutinizing the entire exterior.

He shook his head. “Nothin’. But that dun necessarily mean anythin’. I woulda expected spotters or guards though if there are people in here. Seems real quiet.”

You glanced around. “If there were people in here, they would have patched up that hole in the fence. And I’d have look outs on the roofs,” you said, pointing.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah… c’mon. There’s a fire escape we can use on the closest building to get to the roof. Maybe we’ll be able to see somethin’ from up there. Then we better find someplace to hole up. S’gonna be dark in no time.”

You moved swiftly to the closest warehouse and climbed the fire escape. There were skylights that looked down into the space inside. Most of the windows were grimy and fogged with age, but a few were broken out, allowing you to look down inside. “Holy shit,” you murmured, getting your first glimpse of the contents. There was just enough light left to be able to see down inside. “Daryl—come look at this.” He was at the edge of the roof, scanning the surrounding area with his binoculars again.

He leaned over next to you and let out low noise that was almost a growl. “What the fuck?” Corpses. Hundreds of corpses. But none of them were completely decomposed, which indicated they were of the undead variety…

You gulped and shook your head. “That’s a lot of walkers,” you said in a low voice.

Daryl had his binoculars up to his eyes again. “And a lot of supplies,” he drawled. He glanced at you and handed you his binoculars. “Check out that open door on the side.”

You adjusted the focus, and in the low light, could barely make out what looked like shelves loaded with crates and boxes, some stamped with “MREs” on the side. You sighed. “What are they, dormant? Ran out of food and just shut down mostly? Like a… hibernation. Even starved and slow, there’s no way we can get through that and back out with those supplies.”

Daryl wedged the edge of his thumbnail in between his teeth and bite at it thoughtfully. “Nah. Not just you and me. But with enough people and the right plan, we can… But not now.” You handed him back his binoculars and he stowed them. “C’mon. S’gettin’ dark. We shouldn’t be out here. I didn’t see any sign of anybody but we shouldn’t risk it.”

The two of you found a concrete building that looked to be some kind of utility building for the complex at some point. The main selling points were that it had a sturdy door and most of the windows were strong and intact. After making sure it was clear, you piled your gear near one wall and stepped back into the doorway to find Daryl standing just outside, looking out across the gathering darkness with a stoic look on his face, his eyes narrowed.

“Well,” you sighed, drawing his attention. “At least we have dinner. If we can find enough stuff around here for a fire.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll gather some.” You watched as he walked off in search of fuel. He’d seemed to avoid your eyes. You sensed something in his mood, some tension or anxiousness, but for the moment didn’t question him about it. Instead, you went about cleaning the rabbits you’d collected from the snares, and setting out a couple of the MREs you’d scavenged off the soldiers. Daryl came back with an armload of some cardboard and paper, as well as some pallet wood. He left again without a word in search of more and by the time he came back with another load of wood you had a small blaze crackling happily with the rabbits stewing in a little pot, and the MREs were already hot.

“Well, this is going to feel like a proper feast,” you said, passing him one of the MREs. He had settled down across the fire from you and still seemed to be avoiding your glances. Your stomach twisted.

The two of you ate in silence, but the longer it went on, the more your worry grew. Finally, with dinner over and cleaned up and the two of you simply sitting fireside, you said his name, and for the first time all evening his blue eyes met yours. “Are you okay?” you asked. Your brow was heavily furrowed and the tightness in his chest grew as he took in the look on your face. Of course you’d noticed something about him was off. You’d always been able to read his moods when no one else could, even Carol, and apparently a decade apart hadn’t changed that.

He gulped and he watched the concern on your face grow. “I—I gotta tell ya somethin’,” he said, staring back down at his hands, one clasped around the opposite wrist.

“Okay,” you replied softly. But he didn’t start, so you climbed to your feet and moved around to sit beside him. He looked up again and you saw something like regret in his blue eyes. They seemed a deeper shade than usual, but whether from the low light or something inside him you couldn’t say.

Now that you were settled more closely beside him, looking at him patiently and expectantly, Daryl forced himself to go on. “I—When I was out there, lookin’ for Rick… I met somebody.”

You stomach sank and there was a sharp pang near your heart. Daryl went on before you could respond.

“It wasn’t—I mean… Dog found me out there, he was just a little pup, and eventually one day I followed him back and—there she was.” He was avoiding your eyes, avoiding looking at your face, too afraid of what he would see. “He belonged to her. She was livin’ out there in a little cabin on her own. Her name was Leah and—eventually we became—we were…”

“Together,” you managed, another sharp pain in the middle of your chest. It had come out almost as a whisper.

Daryl’s eyes shot up to yours and they were almost frantic as he tried to explain, terrified of how you were receiving this. “But it wasn’t—it didn’t—” he sighed, exasperated at his inability to find the damn words now of all times. “It didn’t last very long and it wasn’t what I thought it was gonna be and then it was—it ended.”

Your brow contracted low over your eyes. “What happened? I mean—it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

He ducked his eyes again and shifted a little uncomfortably, staring at the heat moving over the coals. “She—she wanted me to choose…”

“Choose? What do you mean?”

“To be there with her, or at Alexandria, or just… out there where I was alone. She didn’t want me to keep goin’ off for a couple days here and there to do whatever I was doin’. We argued about it and I—I went anyway. And when I came back she was just… gone.”

“She left?”

He shook his head and shrugged, still avoiding your eyes. “I dunno. She just wasn’t there. Most of her stuff was gone.”

“Do you think something happened to her?”

“I dunno…” he trailed off. You watched him fixate on a string at the end of his sleeve and start pulling at it. He gulped nervously. “‘M sorry,” he said suddenly, and when he looked up again his eyes were glassy. “I knew she wasn’t—she wasn’t—Fuck. ‘M sorry…”

“Whoa! Hey—Daryl,” you said, moving closer until you were almost right up against his side. You gently put a hand on his arm. His eyes darted down to it and didn’t leave. “You don’t owe me an apology. We were apart for—for ten years. I didn’t know what to think about—about how things would be if you were still alive out here somewhere. I thought maybe you’d have someone, have other kids, have a whole life with someone else. I knew it was a possibility. No one reasonable would expect you not to move on with your life.”

He shook his head, blinking away the slight sting of tears in his eyes. Your hand was still on his arm and its weight was reassuring. “I didn’t move on though. I couldn’t… not really,” he drawled, a thick edge of gravel in his deep voice. “I never could. Maybe she could tell that I—”

You sighed as you looked at him, shaking your head slightly at his regret and depth of feeling over something he should have no guilt about. “Daryl, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not to me, and certainly not to her.” He glanced up hesitantly at you. “Someone who really cared about you, I mean someone who wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have the things important to you, would never have put you in a situation like that and asked you to choose.”

A tight lump formed in his throat again. He knew it as soon as you said it, but it was a realization that still hit him like a punch in the gut.

“It’s like asking you to pick one piece of yourself instead of being whole.”

He held your eyes and nodded a little. He hadn’t had the words to describe it, but you’d said it for him. “Tha’s—tha’s exactly what it felt like. But I still cared ‘bout her and she was just… gone.” He hadn’t told anyone, not even Carol how familiar and horrific that had felt. It brought back losing you, brought it back to the very surface, exposed how raw and unhealed that wound still was.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Daryl let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yer apologizin’ to me?” He brushed a hand back through his wavy hair, shaking his head. You gave him a sad smile.

Your hand finally lifted from his arm and now your eyes were fixed on the fire. You wanted to ask him the words that were ringing in your mind, but you felt you had no right to. Were you in love with her? Are you still?. Daryl’s voice broke your whirling.

“Umm—did ya ever—?”

You shook your head. “No… No, I had DJ to look after and worry about and I just—I just never did, you know? I was so focused on raising him right and healthy and I just never found anyone that—I don’t know…” You trailed off too, the same way he had. “I just didn’t.”

A thick silence settled between the two of you again and it still felt full of unspoken things, but neither of you seemed brave enough yet to completely unburden yourselves, to just take that final step and tip over the precipice... Finally, you sighed and glanced over at him. “Do you think we need to watch in shifts?”

Daryl shook his head. There had still been no sign of any people and only minimal amounts of walkers wandering the vast space. “Nah. We can lock that door and I think it’ll be alrigh’. Secure. Safe.”

You nodded in agreement. “Alright. I think I’m gonna head in and try to catch a few hours. You coming?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. I’ll just put this out and be in.”

“Okay.” You climbed to your feet and then Daryl felt your hand gentle on his shoulder. “Don’t take too long.” Your fingers slipped from him and he watched the shape of you disappear into the deeper blackness inside the little concrete building.

You settled down on your bedroll, pulling a light wool blanket over yourself and sighing, trying to get rid of the tension and swirling thoughts dominating your body and mind. You closed your eyes, but despite being tired, you were finding it hard to settle in. That is until Daryl’s distinctive footsteps entered and you heard the sliding sound of the door on the grit of the floor followed by the comforting heavy clank of the latch. There was a light shuffle and the sound of rustling fabric and you sensed him moving to his own bedroll in the darkness and lying down somewhere not far from you. You shifted and rolled over so you were facing toward him. “Thank you for telling me that,” you said into the still and silent air. You heard more fabric rustling. Daryl had turned onto his side so he was facing toward you now too.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I needed ya to know before…” he trailed off, realizing, perhaps, what he’d been about to reveal.

“…before what?” you asked in a whisper. Daryl could hear sleep creeping into your voice. He gulped.

“Before… before ya found out from somebody that wasn’t me,” he said, quickly rerouting.

“Mmm. Mhm,” you hummed, sinking slowly now into sleep. “G’night, Daryl,” you breathed, giving in and letting it take you.

Daryl sighed heavily and finally closed his eyes. “Night…”

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