Walking Dead Fic: "In The Dark"
Title: In The Dark
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Daryl/Glenn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 823
Summary: And Daryl had ducked his head and scuttled away like a wild dog that's not sure of his welcome.
But Daryl has him. Even if Daryl isn't always one hundred percent sure of that, yet.
Notes: Early Season Two Gapfiller. Written for love_bingo for the prompt "in your eyes"
In The Dark
by Severina
Glenn finds him slouched behind one of the abandoned sedans, his head cradled in his hands. He's trying to be quiet, but Daryl still straightens immediately when he hears him, darts eyes that look slightly panicked his way.
Glenn plants his ass beside him, leans against the car door and watches the woods. Nothing moving there now. No sound but the wind rustling against the leaves. He waits until the tension slowly leaves Daryl's body before side-glancing him.
"You okay?" he asks. It's woefully inadequate, a ridiculous thing to ask a man who has just spent hours tracking through the woods, who has just cut open a walker and dug around in its stomach cavity to see if it ate a little girl. But Rick has Lori, sitting beside him on the steps to the RV and rubbing the back of his neck. Carol has Andrea, holding her hand while she anxiously scans the deepening gloom of the forest.
And Daryl had ducked his head and scuttled away like a wild dog that's not sure of his welcome.
But Daryl has him. Even if Daryl isn't always one hundred percent sure of that, yet.
Daryl shakes his head, pushes off from the car. "Why'd she run? She was doin' just what Rick told her, then she went and veered off like that!"
Glenn opens his mouth to say we'll ask her when we find her; closes it again with the words unsaid. He realizes in that moment that most of him has already written off the little girl. Not because he's heartless, but because he's practical. Because they're in the middle of nowhere and they barely survived detection by a motherfucking herd of walkers. Because he knows that he'd have a hard time finding a safe place to hide out there tonight, never mind a frightened, insecure twelve year old girl like Sophia.
"She was afraid," he says instead.
"Maybe if she weren't so damn scared of her own shadow, she'd've stayed put like she oughta!"
Glenn presses his lips together, watches his shadow slowly get swallowed by the setting sun. They all saw the bruises on Carol's arms, saw the way she used to tuck her daughter under her arm when Ed got too close. They all saw and didn't say a word, until Shane did a lot of talking with his fists. That will change, now. It has to. They need to watch out for each other. But now is not the time to tell Daryl that nobody did a hell of a lot to protect Carol and her daughter, nor to remind him that Carol probably would've refused the protection, anyhow. So he waits while Daryl paces, while Daryl bends and plucks an arrow from the skull of a corpse and stomps to the verge of the interstate and twists the shaft in shaking hands.
"I can find her," Daryl says. He tosses the arrow to the ground, the shaft bent and unusable; grinds it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. "If I can just get back out there!"
"You'll just be chasing your own tail in the dark," Glenn reminds him.
When Daryl's shoulders slump, Glenn levers himself away from the broken-down car, paces slowly to the edge of the roadway. He hesitates, one hand hovering at Daryl's back. He wants to touch, wants to soothe the pain away with his hands. With his lips. But Daryl's skittish as it is, and one wrong move might send the man bolting away. And Daryl needs him now. He lets his hand fall to his side and stands beside him instead, close enough that their shoulders brush together, the line of their hips touching in the near-dark. Close enough to take comfort from each other's presence.
He stands and watches the darkness fall and imagines how terrifying the coming night must be for one sad, frightened little girl.
"Ain't nobody better at trackin' than me," Daryl says into the silence. Glenn swallows at the rawness in his voice, turns to see Daryl looking at him desperately. "Nobody," he repeats. "Not even Merle."
And because he can't handle that look in Daryl's eyes, he throws caution to the wind. He wraps his hand around Daryl's neck, pulls him down until their foreheads touch. Breathes against Daryl's skin. And does something that he very rarely does.
Glenn lies.
"You'll find her tomorrow," Glenn says. "I know you will."
"Tomorrow," Daryl says.
His hands clutch almost painfully at Glenn's biceps. And when their lips meet, it feels like a promise.
They stand together - not moving, not speaking - until they hear Dale calling their names softly. They pull apart to return to the RV, and Glenn slows his pace; glances over his shoulder at the woods, now one solid mass of inky darkness at his back. Sends out a parting thought for safety to one lost little girl, alone in the dark.
My original intention when I signed up was to complete the whole card. Since the challenge ends at the end of this month that is looking more and more unlikely. Oh well, anything that makes me write is still good!
.
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Daryl/Glenn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 823
Summary: And Daryl had ducked his head and scuttled away like a wild dog that's not sure of his welcome.
But Daryl has him. Even if Daryl isn't always one hundred percent sure of that, yet.
Notes: Early Season Two Gapfiller. Written for love_bingo for the prompt "in your eyes"
In The Dark
by Severina
Glenn finds him slouched behind one of the abandoned sedans, his head cradled in his hands. He's trying to be quiet, but Daryl still straightens immediately when he hears him, darts eyes that look slightly panicked his way.
Glenn plants his ass beside him, leans against the car door and watches the woods. Nothing moving there now. No sound but the wind rustling against the leaves. He waits until the tension slowly leaves Daryl's body before side-glancing him.
"You okay?" he asks. It's woefully inadequate, a ridiculous thing to ask a man who has just spent hours tracking through the woods, who has just cut open a walker and dug around in its stomach cavity to see if it ate a little girl. But Rick has Lori, sitting beside him on the steps to the RV and rubbing the back of his neck. Carol has Andrea, holding her hand while she anxiously scans the deepening gloom of the forest.
And Daryl had ducked his head and scuttled away like a wild dog that's not sure of his welcome.
But Daryl has him. Even if Daryl isn't always one hundred percent sure of that, yet.
Daryl shakes his head, pushes off from the car. "Why'd she run? She was doin' just what Rick told her, then she went and veered off like that!"
Glenn opens his mouth to say we'll ask her when we find her; closes it again with the words unsaid. He realizes in that moment that most of him has already written off the little girl. Not because he's heartless, but because he's practical. Because they're in the middle of nowhere and they barely survived detection by a motherfucking herd of walkers. Because he knows that he'd have a hard time finding a safe place to hide out there tonight, never mind a frightened, insecure twelve year old girl like Sophia.
"She was afraid," he says instead.
"Maybe if she weren't so damn scared of her own shadow, she'd've stayed put like she oughta!"
Glenn presses his lips together, watches his shadow slowly get swallowed by the setting sun. They all saw the bruises on Carol's arms, saw the way she used to tuck her daughter under her arm when Ed got too close. They all saw and didn't say a word, until Shane did a lot of talking with his fists. That will change, now. It has to. They need to watch out for each other. But now is not the time to tell Daryl that nobody did a hell of a lot to protect Carol and her daughter, nor to remind him that Carol probably would've refused the protection, anyhow. So he waits while Daryl paces, while Daryl bends and plucks an arrow from the skull of a corpse and stomps to the verge of the interstate and twists the shaft in shaking hands.
"I can find her," Daryl says. He tosses the arrow to the ground, the shaft bent and unusable; grinds it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. "If I can just get back out there!"
"You'll just be chasing your own tail in the dark," Glenn reminds him.
When Daryl's shoulders slump, Glenn levers himself away from the broken-down car, paces slowly to the edge of the roadway. He hesitates, one hand hovering at Daryl's back. He wants to touch, wants to soothe the pain away with his hands. With his lips. But Daryl's skittish as it is, and one wrong move might send the man bolting away. And Daryl needs him now. He lets his hand fall to his side and stands beside him instead, close enough that their shoulders brush together, the line of their hips touching in the near-dark. Close enough to take comfort from each other's presence.
He stands and watches the darkness fall and imagines how terrifying the coming night must be for one sad, frightened little girl.
"Ain't nobody better at trackin' than me," Daryl says into the silence. Glenn swallows at the rawness in his voice, turns to see Daryl looking at him desperately. "Nobody," he repeats. "Not even Merle."
And because he can't handle that look in Daryl's eyes, he throws caution to the wind. He wraps his hand around Daryl's neck, pulls him down until their foreheads touch. Breathes against Daryl's skin. And does something that he very rarely does.
Glenn lies.
"You'll find her tomorrow," Glenn says. "I know you will."
"Tomorrow," Daryl says.
His hands clutch almost painfully at Glenn's biceps. And when their lips meet, it feels like a promise.
They stand together - not moving, not speaking - until they hear Dale calling their names softly. They pull apart to return to the RV, and Glenn slows his pace; glances over his shoulder at the woods, now one solid mass of inky darkness at his back. Sends out a parting thought for safety to one lost little girl, alone in the dark.
My original intention when I signed up was to complete the whole card. Since the challenge ends at the end of this month that is looking more and more unlikely. Oh well, anything that makes me write is still good!
.