Keep You Safe (Part 2)
(Click HERE to read Keep You Safe Part 1)
SUMMARY : (Set late Season 3) The Reader and Daryl find themselves in a life or death situation. It was supposed to be a simple hunt - but when do things ever work out the way you plan?
REQUESTED BY : @distressed-honking (The reader is sick or injured and Daryl has to keep them safe.)
WORD COUNT : 2,395
A/N : Ahh! Thanks for all the love you beautiful people have been showing my work. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get this next part up - y’all know how life can get in the way sometimes. This part has a lot of action in it, but the next and FINAL part will definitely cool down and be more focused on the relationship between the Reader and Daryl. (Yes…that means oodles and oodles of angsty fluff!)
This is Part 2 of 3!
“Behind you!” you exclaimed, just as the biter threw itself at Daryl.
As Daryl pulled the trigger, he was taken down by the walker, landing hard on his side, his crossbow slipping out of his grasp.
And then suddenly, a blinding pain hit you like nothing you’d felt before — it was as though every nerve in your leg was on fire. A scream escaped your lips before you could stop it as tears sprung to your eyes.
You managed to peek around the walker, still thrashing on top of you, and felt your stomach turn.
There, imbedded deep into your right thigh, was Daryl’s arrow.
You groaned, clenching your teeth together to keep from screaming. Each move the walker made jostled the arrow and you couldn’t remember ever being in this much pain.
And then suddenly, the walker went still and was being ripped off your body.
You gasped aloud, finally able to take a full breath without the weight of another body crushing your ribcage.
A shadow clouded your vision and you focused your eyes straight up, coming face to face with Daryl.
He was standing over you, his face a mix between shock and panic and all you could do was close your eyes, fighting the wave of nausea that came over you.
A loud gunshot snapped your eyes open and you saw Daryl, who had grabbed his own gun, was shooting at any walker that got too close.
You had no concept of how many walkers surrounded you at this point — how many were in this herd to begin with. The herd wasn’t as big as the one that took down the farm, but it was enough to take you and Daryl down easily.
And now that you were down for the count, it was only a matter of time before there were too many for Daryl to fend off on his own.
“Daryl…” you whimpered, reaching down and grabbing your thigh, careful not to touch the arrow.
His eyes locked with yours and the panicked look on his face melted into pure determination.
In one swift motion, the archer picked up his crossbow and slid it over his shoulders before bending down and lifting you into his arms, bridal style, careful not to disturb the injury.
You yelped in pain, unable to stop the cry, and tightly gripped onto Daryl’s vest. He spun around, looking for an exit throughout the mass of walkers that were closing in on you.
Lifting your head, you peeked over his shoulder and saw a biter approaching from behind. “Give me your gun,” you growled through clenched teeth.
He nodded once, his face stone-like, and somehow maneuvered the gun into your lap while still holding you.
You wrapped both arms around Daryl’s neck and connected your hands behind his head, locking them around the gun.
Aiming at the walkers coming from behind, you began shooting — ignoring the way your hands trembled, the black spots dancing around your vision, the blood coating your hands.
Suddenly, you saw a small opening where a group of walkers had divided around a tree.
“There!” you called out, pointing towards the empty space.
Daryl spun around and spotted the opening, repositioning you in his arms until he had a better hold. “Ya jus’ hang on now, Y/N,” he grumbled, taking off into a sprint, just barely avoiding a swipe from a biter.
You’d never seen Daryl run as fast as he did in that moment — it felt as if you were flying. Or maybe it was the blood loss catching up with you.
Trees and mangled hands blurred your vision. Every few seconds, you felt something graze you, but just like that, the sensation was gone.
You kept one hand wrapped around the arrow to keep it from moving and the other held the gun. Every so often, you’d spot a walker getting too close and fired, your aim still good despite the shakiness in your body.
Daryl’s breath came out in steady huffs and you wondered how he had the strength to keep this pace, on top of carrying your extra weight. But the look on his face told you he wouldn’t stop until he found somewhere safe.
A part of you questioned why you weren’t in as much pain as you thought you’d be — maybe it was adrenaline. Or maybe your body was going numb and slowly bleeding out.
You raised your head slightly and looked down at your leg — it was soaked in blood, arrow still imbedded. You noticed that your blood had seeped into Daryl’s shirt. He’d probably have to toss it. What a shame. You liked that shirt. It was a nice color on him and —
Shaking your head quickly, you put all your energy into staying alert. You could feel yourself fading, floating in and out of consciousness.
Each time your eyes were about to close, Daryl jostled you back awake and ran faster.
Peeking over his shoulder, you saw the herd had changed directions and was now chasing after the two of you.
You glanced up at Daryl, covered in dirt, sweat and blood — your blood — and felt a warmth spread through your body.
Obviously these circumstances weren’t ideal, but if you had to be in this situation with anyone, you were glad it was with the archer.
You barely felt any pain at this point — which should’ve freaked you out — but you welcomed the numbness. Glancing over Daryl’s shoulder once more, you saw the herd was farther behind, unable to keep up.
You looked ahead and saw a couple of biters who’d been drawn in by all the commotion, but they didn’t seem like much of a threat either.
Daryl’s pace had slowed — you were honestly surprised he had lasted as long as he did. He was breathing heavy, drops of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.
You reached a hand up and gently wiped at a bead of sweat that had settled near the corner of his eye, ignoring the light streak of blood it left there.
His steps faltered and he slowed to a stop, scanning the area intently before his eyes settled on you. He shifted you in his arms and you could see the strain in his face.
“Put me…down,” you grimaced, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Daryl looked like he was about to argue, but you shot him a look and he carefully set you down.
You kept your weight on your good leg, balancing for a moment, keeping one arm around the archer to keep from falling.
You took a breath and shifted your weight, a jolt of pain shooting through your leg. A cry escaped your lips as your body gave out, sending you crashing to the ground.
The fall should’ve been worse, but Daryl was right there — like he always was — and caught you right before you hit the ground.
You gnashed your teeth together, ignoring the feeling of the arrow moving beneath your skin as he helped maneuver you to the ground.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you took deep, measured breaths, digging your nails into the palm of your hand to distract yourself from the pain in your leg. The sun had almost completely set and you knew you needed to find somewhere safe to ride out the night.
Opening your eyes, you saw Daryl scanning the area thoroughly, before he came and knelt beside you. His gaze slid down to your leg, his features darkening slightly and you could see his jaw clench and unclench as he stared.
“Hey,” you whispered, trying to get his attention. But his focus remained on the arrow sticking out of your thigh, the color draining from his face a little. “Hey,” you said again, a little more forceful, grabbing his chin gently and turning his face towards you.
Daryl’s eyes locked with yours, eyebrows furrowed, expression unreadable. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but a twig snapping in the distance had him jumping to his feet.
A moan sounded from somewhere behind you and you craned your neck, surveying the trees to see if the herd had caught up.
You looked up at Daryl, who was squinting in the opposite direction. He took a couple steps forward, apparently having spotted something beyond the trees.
“What’re you —”
“Cabin,” he stated, pointing to something ahead you couldn’t see from your seated position.
You sat up a little straighter, a blossoming of hope spreading through you. “Are you sure?”
“C’mon,” he responded gruffly, hurrying over to you and sweeping you back into his arms.
You stifled the gasp that rose to your throat and locked your arms around Daryl’s neck as he took off once again.
From behind, you could see the herd in the distance, having picked up steam with their sights set firmly on you.
Your stomach dropped and you turned your focus ahead, finally seeing what it was Daryl saw.
A couple yards in front of you was a cabin. It looked fairly untouched — windows still in tact, front door shut. There was a set of stairs leading up to the front porch, logs of firewood stacked up against the side.
But there was no smoke coming from the chimney, no lanterns or candles lit as dusk took over, no sign that anyone was inside.
Daryl’s steps slowed as the two of you approached the cabin, coming to a halt at the foot of the porch stairs. You stared up at the cottage, a pit forming in your stomach.
“What if someone’s inside?” you whispered, glancing up at him.
Daryl nodded slowly, chest heaving. “We’ll do what we have ta’ do,” he finally grumbled between breaths.
As if on cue, a loud groan sounded, snapping your attention to the side of the cabin. Suddenly, a group of walkers came limping around the side of the house, heading straight towards you.
“Damn it,” Daryl snarled, readjusting his hold on you and climbing up the front stairs.
You watched over his shoulder as the walkers stumbled their way up after — about six or seven dead ones in this group.
The cabin could be the perfect hiding spot from the huge herd not far behind. But if the herd was drawn in by this new group, they would tear the cabin apart — including you and Daryl.
Daryl made it to the top of the stairs and ran to the front door, setting you down as gently as possible. You hissed in pain and quickly shifted your weight off your bad leg, holding onto the door frame, ignoring how the world tilted.
Daryl reached for the doorknob, turned it, and —
It was locked.
“Shit,” he growled, stepping back a couple of feet before attempting to kick it down.
Keeping your eyes on the walkers coming up the stairs, you felt your heart start to race. You could hear Daryl’s grunts as he relentlessly tried to kick the door in, hearing the wood start to splinter.
“They’re coming,” you urged, trying to keep the panic from your voice.
Daryl’s kicks became stronger and faster until suddenly, the door flew open and you shielded your face from the shards of wood that shattered off.
Before you had time to react, you felt Daryl loop an arm around your waist as he half dragged, half carried you into the cabin just as the walkers lunged for you.
It felt as though everything happened in slow motion.
As soon as you were inside the cabin, Daryl let go of you, spinning around and slamming what was left of the door shut.
The walkers outside pushed against the door, slipping their hands through the cracks, shoving against Daryl’s weight.
The moment Daryl released you, your legs gave out and you landed hard on the floor, crying out in pain. Your vision was starting to go in and out as you stared up at the wooden panels lining the ceiling.
You craned your neck off the floor and saw Daryl, his back against the door, struggling to keep it shut against the biters.
He was desperately scanning the room, looking for something he could use to keep the door closed, when his eyes landed on you.
You squinted, trying to focus on him, but everything was blurry.
Come on, Y/N. Daryl needs your help. Come on, get up! GET. UP.
The voice in your head screamed at you to do something, to do anything, but you couldn’t get your body to cooperate. You groaned, hands hovering over the injury, careful not to touch the arrow that was somehow still inside you.
A muffled noise drew your attention and your eyes snapped back to Daryl — he was mouthing something. No…he was shouting something.
You shook your head, unable to hear exactly what he was saying. But you could tell by the look in his eyes it wasn’t anything good.
Daryl was pushed up against the door, still struggling against the walkers, but was frantically pointing at something off to your left.
Your gaze followed where he was pointing and you looked into the kitchen, suddenly understanding his horror as a walker appeared in your vision and launched itself at you.
A scream escaped your lips as the biter crawled its way up your body, teeth snapping, hands clawing. Daryl’s shouts became louder but you could hardly hear them over your own.
You managed to grab the walker around the neck, keeping it just mere inches from your face as you desperately searched for a weapon.
You spotted a poker laid out near the fireplace, but it was just out of your reach and you growled in frustration.
Your arms shook under the weight of the biter, black spots seeping into your vision and you knew it wouldn’t be long until your body finally gave out on you.
Then suddenly, like a beacon of hope, you saw your only chance of making it out alive.
Before you could think twice, you grabbed the shaft of the arrow imbedded in your thigh and ripped it out of your body, feeling parts of your skin tear in the process.
A blood curling scream echoed throughout the room and it took a moment to realize it was coming from you.
Tears streamed down the sides of your cheeks as you gasped in pain, feeling as though each and every nerve in your leg had been put through a paper shredder.
Gnashing your teeth together, you took every bit of strength you had left and stabbed the arrow into the temple of the walker.
It stilled immediately and collapsed on top of you, but you had no energy left to move it.
You laid completely still, vision fading, a numbness taking over your body.
The last thing you heard was the door crash open, an uproar of growls coming from the dead, and Daryl screaming your name.
And then the world went dark.
ANOTHER cliffhanger?! I’m oh so cruel…
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in Part 3!!!