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the-name-is-z · 29 days

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SKELETONS | ch. 13

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: Shane's role in the group comes into question, Carl is up and healing, and everyone seems to be pissed off at something. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; carl learns how to whittle, writer mentions whittling ducks (inescapable halsin reference), carl steals a gun, a few group members learn to shoot, maggie gets pissed after a close call, mentions of pregnancy, (suggestions of) infidelity and abortion (copious amounts of morning after) pills, death threats

Chapter 13 - Gunslinging

Carl was up and walking the next morning, taking it easy and helping Lori feed the chickens with Patricia. He seemed to be doing okay, but Iris noted a few cynical comments from him that raised some eyebrows.

Glenn was hiding something, and it almost amused Iris more to follow him and watch him try to keep it to himself than to get him to come clean. He brought some fruit over to Dale and T-Dog while they were setting up the RV’s awning and had practically told them there was something dreadfully wrong.

Daryl was back in his tent, relaxing, though slightly annoyed he wasn’t out and about with the others. He knew better than to strain himself further. He’d forgiven Andrea already for trying to protect the group, but Iris was still annoyed that Shane gave her a gun in the first place.

Rick and Shane entertained Jimmy around their search map, Shane looking for spots for them to start training the others with guns. Even Patricia and Beth seemed interested in learning how to protect themselves.

Iris watched the interaction from the RV stairs, Carl standing beside her as she taught him how to whittle. He was mostly skilled in sharp, pointy sticks so far, but learning how to work the knife was the first step. He wore Rick’s hat around now that Rick’d ditched the uniform, and it suited him, despite being a little big.

“How’s it coming?” She asked, pulling her own knife away from the slowly-forming duck shape in her hand. Carl showed her the stick and she nodded. “See if you can make rings around the wood, try to make ‘em even.” He accepted the challenge, holding the knife carefully as Shane meandered over from Rick and their map.

“Nice lid, man.” He commented on the hat. “What’s going on?”

“We’re whittling.” Carl said with a grin. Shane nodded, observing the stick. He took a seat nearby, stretching out his legs. Carl put the knife into his pocket, turning to Shane. “I want to learn to shoot, too. Can you teach me?”

“Well, man, that’s up to your parents.” Shane replied with a chuckle.

“He asked me, too.” Iris stated, giving Carl a pointed look.

“Can you talk to them? They’ll listen to you.” Shane laughed.

“We’ll see, okay?” He answered. Carl nodded dejectedly, turning away

“Hey. What you got there?” Iris asked as he turned, a flash of black peeking out from under his shirt. Carl lifted the shirt, displaying the small revolver he’d found somewhere tucked into his pants. Iris and Shane looked to one another, the former holding out his hand expectedly.

They told Carl to go sit down at the camp and wait while Shane and Iris brought the gun to Rick and Lori.

“How the hell did this happen?” Lori asked, checking the ammo before tucking the gun into the waistband of her own jeans. Dale had his hands shoved in his pockets, glancing over at the young boy.

“It’s my fault, I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.” Dale explained. Rick sighed.

“So on top of everything else, he lied?” Lori asked, looking to her husband expectantly. “What’s he thinking?”

“He wants to learn how to shoot.” Shane stated. “He asked me and Iris both to teach him, separate times. Now it’s none of my business, but I’m happy to do it. It’s your call.”

“I’m not comfortable with it.” Lori replied with a humourless laugh. Rick didn’t say anything, looking up at Shane. “Oh, don’t make me the unreasonable one, here, Rick.”

“I know. I have my concerns too, but—“

“There’s no but. He was just shot.” Lori interrupted sternly. “He’s just back on his feet and he wants a gun?”

“Better than him being afraid of ‘em.” Rick countered.

“Maybe you could tide him over with a little gun safety.” Iris suggested. “As a start. Once he shows he’s responsible enough, he knows the rules, you can decide if he should learn more.”

“There are guns in this camp for a reason, he should learn to handle them safely.” Rick agreed. Lori scoffed and shook her head.

“I don’t want my kid walking around with a gun.” She stated plainly.

“But how can you defend that?” Rick asked. “You can’t let him go around without protection.”

“He’s as safe as he’ll ever be, right here.” Lori snapped. Rick sighed and she put up a hand. “Look, everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. It just feels wrong. I mean, I didn’t feel good about him following you out into the woods and I wish I’d said something. I should have gone with my gut.”

“He’s growing up— thank God. We’ve got to start treating him more like an adult.” Rick protested.

“Then he needs to act like one.” Lori said loudly, turning to her son. “He’s not mature enough to handle a gun.”

“I’m not gonna play with it, mom.” Carl said, standing and walking over. “It’s not a toy. I’m sorry I disappointed you, but I want to look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can’t do that without a gun.”

“Shane’s the best instructor I know.” Rick said quietly, turning back to Lori. Iris smiled down at Carl, giving him a wink. She was proud of him for saying that. “I’ve seen him teach kids younger than Carl.” Lori blinked at her husband, staring for a moment before clamping her jaw shut and walking over to Carl. She gripped his face in one hand lightly, turning him up to face her.

“You will take this seriously.” She said firmly. “And you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you’re not living up to our expectations—“

“He wont let you down.” Rick said, looking to his son pointedly. Carl nodded, looking up at his mom.

“Yeah.” He agreed. She squeezed his face before walking away.

“Now if you’re gonna do this, you listen to Shane.” Rick said.

“Okay, Dad.”

“Alright? You be careful.” He sent him off toward the cars as Shane and a few others started loading up the SUV and station wagon. Guns, ammo, things they could use for practice.

“You coming?” He asked Iris as she followed Carl.

“Yeah, I can be on walker duty.” She replied and he nodded.

“Glenn?”

“Nah, I told Dale I’d help him… clean the spark plugs on the RV.” Glenn replied, clearing his throat to hide the nervous tremor. Iris snorted loudly. “He’s gonna teach me mechanics. I should probably go look for him.”

“You found me.” Dale said, leaning against the small bench swing near the RV, raising an eyebrow. “He’s a good learner.” Iris and Shane exchanged a smirk as they got into the car, Shane starting up the engine.

They drove quickly to the spot Shane had scouted with the others following, and Shane quickly set up a line of old wine bottles, some filled with a bit of water, along the fence. Each one of them had a gun, holding them forward and shooting to the best of their ability. Shane walked along behind them like a sergeant, correcting form and straightening posture. Rick came out to watch for a while, mildly impressed by a few of them.

“Jimmy. You’re not a gangster from New Jersey. Hold the gun straight.” Iris called, noting the fact that the boy on the end was holding the gun with one hand, and sideways. He glanced back at her, putting both hands on the gun and holding it up and down before firing. The bullet shattered the glass of the bottle and she nodded.

Andrea was particularly enjoying the shooting lessons, with good enough aim. She mostly liked showing off in front of Shane, it seemed.

“I’d say she’s got the hang of it.” Shane stated.

“I’d say she’s ready for the advanced class.” Rick joked. “Might be worth your while after the rest of us head back to camp.”

“Sure, why not?” Andrea agreed, though Iris could see how giddy she was.

“Better watch your back, Shane. She might shoot you.” Iris taunted. Andrea turned around.

“You got a problem?” She asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, a little bit. I got a problem with the fact that everyone apparently forgot that you shot one of us yesterday. You need glasses or something?” Iris spat.

“Oh yeah? Since when are you one of us?” Andrea retorted. “Daryl forgave me, okay? I said I was sorry, and I am.” Iris scoffed, shaking her head.

“Whoa, whoa, ladies, c’mon now.” Shane interrupted, coming to stand between them. Andrea backed off a little, but in all honesty she was somewhat frightened by the fire in Iris’ eyes.

“I’m heading back.” Iris mumbled. “Gonna walk.”

Iris needed to cool off, that was for sure. She was irritated. To be fair to Andrea, Daryl did forgive her. But Iris had a hard time with it. She was frustrated that they weren’t making progress, toward finding Sophia, toward Fort Benning, any of it. She’d heard Hershel and Rick arguing, she knew that Hershel wanted them all to leave. That they weren’t welcome. Except Rick kept that to himself, and Iris was growing impatient.

There were things all of them needed to learn. Things Iris had to do the hard way. She lost everyone, and they didn’t know what that felt like. Maybe Andrea did, but she still had her group. And she almost threw them away like they were nothing, giving up, opting out. Iris had had plenty of opportunity to kill herself. But she wouldn’t. She felt an obligation to the world, to these people, now.

Maybe this was all just pent up emotion coming out. It probably was. But when Iris returned alone to the farm, she stuck to herself. She spent a few hours throwing her knives into a target she carved into a tree. Dale and Glenn asked if she was alright a while ago, and took her silence as an answer.

After a while, she started to sweat in the hot Georgia sun, and reached for her bandana to tie her hair back. She realized then that it was gone. She’d used it to prevent Daryl from bleeding to death in the woods. Iris would never said she regretted it, and she didn’t, but she did miss the bandana. It was Felix’s.

Iris looked up from helping Lori fold laundry as Glenn and Maggie stormed through the camp. Well, Maggie did the storming and Glenn followed her sheepishly. Everyone else had dispersed across the farm, and apparently Shane and Andrea were out looking for Sophia.

“Hey! We got your stuff.” Maggie snapped, slamming the gate behind her, right into Glenn. Lori looked up, somewhat alarmed.

“Maggie, hang on, please.” Glenn pleaded. Lori looked around frantically for other people, glancing nervously down at Iris, who was very confused.

“Come on in here.” Lori called, gesturing for Maggie to follow her into her tent, but Maggie was not having it.

“Why? Nothing to hide, we got your special delivery right here.” She yelled, shoving her arm into the paper bag. “We got your lotion, got your conditioner, your soap opera digest—“

“Maggie—“ Lori breathed.

“Next time you want something, get it your damn self. We’re not your errand boys.” She hissed.

“Honey, I—“

“And here’s your abortion pills.” Maggie snapped, throwing them into the dirt before shoving Glenn away, storming off. Iris’ mouth fell open, and she stayed silent as Lori scrambled to pick the pills up off of the ground. Glenn shot Lori an apologetic look before running after Maggie. Lori had tears in her eyes as she crouched, a hand to her mouth. She turned to Iris with a pleading look.

“I won’t say a word.” Iris whispered, shaking her head. Lori’s tears slipped down her face. “No judgement whether you take them or not. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” Lori murmured. She practically collapsed into Iris’ arms, breathing deeply. Iris rubbed her back comfortingly, staring after Glenn and Maggie. Something must have happened. Maggie had blood on her shirt, but they both seemed fine. Hopefully Glenn could make her feel better.

Glenn came back a little while later, Lori and Iris sitting at the table inside her large tent.

“The blood on Maggie’s shirt?” Iris asked.

“She was attacked.” He confirmed.

“Are you guys alright? How bad was it?” Lori asked.

“It was pretty close.” He replied, stepping inside and taking a seat next to Iris, running his hands through his hair. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Lori said, shaking her head. “I should never have asked you to go.”

“I offered.” Glenn replied, shaking his head.

“I thought the town was safe, but if you hadn’t come back—“

“But we did. I always do.” He assured. He had another bag in his hands and he messed with it as he looked down. “The morning-after pills— will they even work?”

“I don’t know.” Lori replied. “And I don’t know if I want them to.”

“Then, I got these too, just in case.” Glenn said, putting the paper bag on the table in front of her. She unwrapped the bag, pulling out two bottles of prenatal vitamins. Iris couldn’t hold back her small smile, and neither could Lori.

“That’s a hell of a choice.” Lori murmured.

“I’m glad it’s not mine.” Glenn stated honestly. “Lori… we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“With everything we’ve been through— yeah.” Lori replied quickly. He shook his head.

“I can’t tell you what to do— I could never tell you something like that. But your choice… maybe you shouldn’t make it alone.” He said nothing more before standing, putting his hand on Iris’ shoulder before ducking out of the tent.

“I’ll leave you alone for a bit. I’ll be nearby if you need me.” Iris said softly. Lori nodded, putting her head in her hands as Iris left her to think.

Shane and Andrea returned a little while later, with no sign of Sophia. They looked a little tired and had some walker blood on them, but no worse for wear. Yet, Iris could have sworn she saw a hickey. Dale seemed as equally suspicious of them. Iris nodded to Shane as he walked past, but Dale followed after him.

“Shane, I was thinking, you’ve got that nice new ride of yours, plenty of fuel, more than enough for you to get far from here.” Dale said sharply. Iris’ eyebrows shot up. Shane was… problematic, sometimes, but no one yet had outright asked him to leave.

“What, you telling me to leave?” Shane asked, glancing at Iris before looking back to Dale. It appeared that Iris would witness many a-private argument today.

“I know you’ve been planning to.” Dale said simply. “Maybe now’s a good time.” Shane looked to Iris, who stayed frozen, before huffing a laugh.

“Is this about Andrea?” He asked, narrowing his gaze.

“I’m looking out for the group.” Dale answered.

“You think the group would be better off without me, Dale? Why don’t you tell that to Rick or Lori? Their boy would be dead if I hadn’t put my ass on the line.”

“They’d be pretty disappointed if they knew you were using that as an excuse to save your own ass.” Iris said lowly. She wouldn’t let Carl become a bargaining chip for this bullshit.

“You risked yours, and Otis’s.” Dale pointed out. Shane said nothing, shaking his head and turning away. “Yeah, you’ve been vague about that night, about what happened.”

“Otis died a hero.” Shane said simply, turning back around.

“So you’ve said.” Dale replied accusingly.

“A little boy lived because of what went down that night.” Shane glowered. “I think you oughta show some gratitude.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“No, man, you weren’t.”

“But I was the time that you raised your gun on Rick.” Dale continued.

“What?” Iris asked, standing up.

“Come on. Jesus.”

“You had him in your sights and you held him there.” Dale continued. “I know what kind of man you are.” Shane stared down at the ground for a moment before looking up through his eyebrows. Iris had no love for the look in his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You think I’d shoot Rick?” He breathed. “That’s my best friend. That’s the man that I love. I love him like he’s my brother. You think that’s the kind of man I am?”

“That’s right.” Dale replied confidently.

“Well, maybe we ought to just think that through.” Shane replied lowly. Iris stepped toward them slowly, her hand moving to rest on the handle of her knife. That sounded an awful lot like a threat. “Say that I’m the kind of man who’d gun down his own best friend. What do you think I’d do to some guy that I don’t even like when he starts throwing accusations my way? What do you think?”

Dale’s eyes were wide as Shane got close, looking down at him dangerously. Iris stepped forward, behind Dale, so she could remind him there were witnesses. And honestly, she would be much harder to kill. Shane stood there for a few seconds, hopefully contemplating what he just said, before turning away. Dale shuddered as he turned meeting Iris’ gaze.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” She muttered. He nodded, refusing to turn his back on Shane’s retreating silhouette.

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fanfictionfaberrycentral · 5 years

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Healthy Habits

by TheNameIsZ (curiouslygray)

summary:

Lena Luthor never had the best habits. Kara Danvers helps change that.

#Aoo #Fiction #Supercorp #new

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the-name-is-z · 19 days

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SKELETONS | ch. 17

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group argues heavily over Randall's fate, their humanity and civility hanging in the balance. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; discussion/descriptions of suicide attempt, injuries relating to suicide attempt, child risking their own life, discussion of execution/murder, moral arguments, theft, discussion of civility, humanity, etc

Chapter 17 - Calm

Iris grit her teeth as Maggie explained in a dark voice what Andrea had done. She had spoken to Beth and apparently allowed her to be alone. And in that time, Beth tried to kill herself. She’d broken the bathroom mirror and used the glass shard to slit her wrist open. It wasn’t nearly deep enough to do anything, and the consensus was that Beth now wanted to live, but Andrea still left her there to do it.

She was upset for Maggie, and sad for Andrea. It was a difficult way of thinking to get in the habit of. It was painful and hard. Most of them tried hard to live in fight or flight, the adrenaline eating at them day by day. Then there were the others, who felt every bit of pain of the world.

Iris knew how many people ‘opted out’ when the world went to shit. Her father among them. It was easier for them, and she wanted to respect their decision. Some people weren’t built for the constant adrenaline. But when you were stuck between the two, had commitments, had family, it was a million times harder. To decide why you’re living, what you’re living for. Who you’re living for, if not yourself.

It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with any of them. For Beth and Maggie, it was between them. For Iris, she wasn’t entirely sure where she fell yet. She knew she wanted to survive, to live. But she wasn’t sure yet what for.

Daryl was in the shed with Randall, scaring the living shit out of him. He had a knife, was beating him bloody and threatening to cut off appendages. Randall knew Maggie, and unless they wanted to kill him, he was a risk to the group. He was feeding Daryl information. Information he wanted to be very, very careful about sharing.

Iris had asked, and he told her everything Randall had said. He was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t Satan. He’d done terrible things, but they had yet to decide what sort of things were worth a human life. Who were they to make that distinction?

“So whatcha gonna do?” Lori asked, pouring herself some coffee from the campfire. “I think we’d all feel better if we knew the plan.”

“Is there a plan?” Andrea asked.

“We gonna keep him here?” Glenn asked. They were all looking to Rick, who’d gotten new clothes from their latest run into town. It was always weird to see white shirts that were really, actually white. Shane stood beside him, his hands on his belt as he waited for Rick to make the decision. He’d been quiet since Rick took him out with Randall, and that almost worried Iris more.

“We’ll know soon enough.” Rick replied, jerking his chin to Daryl, who was coming back to join them once again. His knuckles were covered in blood and Iris raised an eyebrow.

“Boy there’s got a gang. Thirty men. They have heavy artillery and they ain’t looking to make friends.” Daryl explained. “They roll through here, our boys are dead, and our women, they’re gonna wish they were.” Iris grimaced, turning to Rick with her raised eyebrow.

“What did you do?” Carol asked, looking at his bloodied hands.

“We had a little chat.” Daryl snarked.

“No one goes near this guy.” Rick murmured.

“Rick, what are you gonna do?” Lori asked quietly, approaching him directly.

“We have no choice. He’s a threat.” Rick decided. “We have to eliminate the threat.”

“You’re just gonna kill him?” Dale asked, dumbfounded.

“It’s settled. I’ll do it today.” Rick turned around, and Dale chased after him, jaw wide open. They argued for a little in the field, and Iris watched Dale’s frantic gestures. Everyone settled into the morning. It seemed like it would rain today.

“You good?” Iris asked, nodding to Daryl’s knuckles as he sat down with a plate of eggs. He gave a half-shrug.

“Punk told me about how they happened upon a guy in the woods, had a camp with two daughters.” He said lowly. Iris nodded. “He didn’t do it, but he watched ‘em.” Iris sighed deeply, running a hand over her face. “You against it?” Daryl asked, seeming surprised.

“Despite all the knives, I actually dislike the idea of killing people.” Iris stated, trying to make light of the situation, but it wasn’t working. “I don’t know.” Daryl nodded.

“I wouldn’t say ‘yes’ if it wasn’t a danger to the group.” He mumbled. Iris nodded in agreement.

A while later, Daryl was fiddling around his own little campsite behind the old stone building. Iris sat in silence, watching him, enjoying the comfortable quiet. She also watched as Dale came walking across the field toward them, a rifle in hand just in case. Daryl scoffed once he stood up and noticed him.

“The whole point of me coming up here is to get away from you people.” He muttered.

“Well, Iris is here.” Dale retorted. Daryl turned to make eye contact with her and he shrugged.

“She knows when to keep her mouth shut.” He replied. Iris scoffed, toasting her canteen sarcastically before taking a long swig. “Carol send you?”

“Carol’s not the only one that’s concerned about you, your new role in the group.” Dale said softly.

“Oh, man, I don’t need my head shrunk.” Daryl grumbled, adding feathers to the arrows he was making. He was actually very crafty, and Iris enjoyed watching him work, even if it meant she had to ‘keep her mouth shut’.

“He responds better to positive punishment.” Iris suggested as a joke. Daryl scowled, flicking a… pheasant foot… at her.

“You act like you don’t care.” Dale observed.

“Yeah, it’s cause I don’t.” Daryl replied.

“So, live or die, you don’t care what happens to Randall?”

“Nope.”

“If it doesn’t matter, why don’t you stand with me? If it really doesn’t matter, one way or the other?” Dale proposed.

“I didn’t peg you for a desperate son of a bitch.” Daryl mumbled.

“Your opinion makes a difference.” Dale stated.

“Man, ain’t nobody looking at me for nothing.”

“Iris is. Carol is. And I am. Right now. And you obviously have Rick’s ear.”

“Rick just looks to Shane. Let him.”

“You cared about what happened to Sophia.” Dale pleaded. “Cared what it meant to the group. Torturing people? That isn’t you. You’re a decent man. So is Rick. Shane— he’s different.”

“Why’s that? ‘Cause he killed Otis?” Daryl asked. Dale paused, eyes going wide.

“He tell you that?”

“Just some story. How Otis covered him, saved his ass. He shows up with the dead guy’s gun. Rick ain’t stupid. If he didn’t figure that out, it’s because he didn’t wanna.” Daryl turned and walked off, leaving Dale to turn to Iris, a defeated look on his face. Iris looked at him with sympathy, patting the spot on the log next to her.

“Alright?” She asked. He shook his head.

“This is not how it should be.” He mumbled. “We used to be civilized.”

“You think so?” Iris asked, putting her elbows on her knees as she looked at him.

“You don’t?” He asked in return. Iris sucked on a tooth.

“Honestly, Dale. I was raised by a biker gang in a bar because my dad spent his life drunk before kicking his own bucket. I got my first gun at ten years old. Those kinds of people… this is how it always was.” She explained slowly, chewing on each word carefully.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that.” He said quietly. Iris shrugged.

“It’s who I am, and I won’t change it. But… I think it’s wrong to expect true… ‘humanity' from everyone, especially if they’ve never experienced it before.” She made air-quotes, looking pointedly in the direction Daryl had gone to emphasize. She paused, turning to the house and the campsite in the distance. “Have you ever killed a person, Dale?”

“No. Have you?”

“Yes.” Iris replied. “I killed my mother, because she tried to kill my brother. Well, my cousin. I was ten. It was the first time I used that gun.” Dale sat back, somewhat appalled. “The point is, sometimes we don’t have a choice. We have to protect the people we love.” He opened his mouth to interject but she held up a hand. "I’m not saying that’s this situation. I don’t know what to do about Randall. But I think it’s naïve to think another situation like this won’t happen. And another. And another. At one point, Dale, you’re not gonna have a choice.”

“I don’t want to live like that. I don’t think we should.” He said, standing in frustration.

“Dale—“

“I’m sorry you didn’t grow up in a better home, Iris. I… I’m sorry for you.”

Iris watched him leave and sighed. He could be as sorry as he wanted. She wasn’t. She always had done what she knew was right. She killed her mother, who had a psychotic break, in self defence. The law said she was right, the jury said she was right, and the judge said she was right. The newspaper called her a local hero. For Felix, she would have done anything, and the world was better off without her mother in it.

It wasn’t about right or wrong, though. It was about playing the odds. What were the odds that if they left Randall alive, that his group would come down on them with the wrath of God? Especially after Daryl tortured him. She was sure that didn’t help. By what percentage did their odds of survival increase if they killed him? Ten? Twenty? Sixty? Would Randall’s death be a significant factor in changing their lives?

Iris witnessed Carol have a brief argument with Lori about something ‘cruel’ Carl said about Sophia. Rick assured them he would speak to Carl about it and he did, but something he said resonated in Carl and she noticed. Don’t talk, think. It wasn’t a bad rule of thumb, but it was important to stand up for what you believe in. Without being cruel to others, however.

Carl’s newfound attitude amused Iris still. Dale continued in his rounds, speaking to everyone to try and convince them to stand against the decision to execute Randall. He left Iris to her own devices, and Iris remained in and around Daryl’s campsite, away from the others. It was peaceful here, and at some point, Carl wandered up, likely bored.

He strode around, looking at Daryl’s string of dead squirrels before his eyes fell onto the motorcycle. Carl grinned as he grabbed the handles, pretending he was revving the engine.

“Careful, cowboy.” Iris warned. Carl jumped sky-high, spinning around to see her leaning against a tree. She smiled, and he took a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. She shook her head.

“I did it too. Just don’t let Daryl see.” She replied. He looked up at her and smiled.

“It’s so cool.” He murmured. Iris nodded. “Loud, though.” She hummed, proud yet amused as he was slowly figuring out how the undead world worked. He looked off into the forest before walking right in.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Iris asked, hurriedly following after him.

“I want to practice killing walkers again.” He called, moving quickly through the brush.

“Carl, wait a second!” She called after him. Iris actually had to try to keep up with him. She followed him all the way to the creek, the banks much shallower than where she and Daryl had found Sophia’s doll. There was a walker standing there, ankle deep in the mud, and Carl almost ran up to it.

It spotted him, turning and gnashing his teeth, but it was stuck, unable to pull its feet from the bank. Carl took that as an opportunity to get closer.

“Carl.” Iris warned, jogging up to the bank. He ignored her, tossing a rock at the walker. It snarled in irritation, pulling to reach for him. Carl watched it with interest, and parked himself on a nearby log.

They were there for a couple hours, just sitting and watching the walker. Carl said nothing and neither did she. His interest in walkers… it was dangerous. Concerning. Needed to be set right. Hopefully his parents would figure that out sooner than later. She also hoped that Carl wasn’t under the assumption she would keep this to herself.

“I’m gonna kill it.” He decided, pushing to his feet. Iris watched as he ran around behind the walker. It was still stuck, turning around to claw at Carl with a twisted spine. Carl got closer, taking a deep breath, and pulled out a gun.

Iris scrambled to her feet at the sight of it. That was Daryl’s gun. She didn’t even see the little bastard take it from the motorcycle bag. He pointed it at the wriggling walker, shaking with the weight and struggling as the walker moved around. Carl stepped closer, trying to make it easier, when the walker’s foot finally got loose.

It fell forward, it’s hand knocking the gun from Carl’s hand. Carl gave a shriek of surprise, yelping as he crawled backward away from the walker. Iris leapt over the fallen log, plunging a knife into the walker’s leg just as it grabbed onto Carl’s leg.

She kicked it away and Carl scrambled back, putting a good ten feet in-between him and the dead man. Iris scowled as she grabbed the gun from the ground, following after Carl as he started back to the farm. He didn’t stop until he got to the field before the farm, Iris sprinting after him.

“Christ, kid, what were you thinking?” She yelled, stopping him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, his lip quivering as he shook. He was scared out of his wits. She tucked the gun into the back of her pants, kneeling down in front of him. “You’re okay, alright? Don’t do something like that again.”

He barely nodded before he turned back to head to the farmhouse, and Iris followed after him. The group was gathering on the deck to finally decide what to do with Randall, and she didn’t want to miss the verdict. She followed as they all trailed into the house, Lori sending Carl off to stay with Jimmy.

Everyone found a spot around the room, Daryl leaning against the open doorframe while Rick stood front and centre. Iris found a seat on the windowsill, the late afternoon sunlight shining a golden glow into the room. A little ironic, she’d say.

“So how do we do this?” Glenn asked, breaking the baited silence. “Do we just take a vote?”

“Does it have to be unanimous?” Andrea asked.

“How about majority rules?” Lori proposed. Iris raised an eyebrow.

“Well, let’s just see where everybody stands.” Rick said, putting his hand out. “Then we can talk through the options.”

“Well, where I sit, there’s only one way to move forward.” Shane started off, leaning himself against the fireplace mantle.

“Killing him, right?” Dale asked. He shook his head. It was clear he was exhausted and defeated, and Iris pitied him. “I mean, why bother to even take a vote? It’s clear which way the wind’s blowing.”

“Well, if people believe we should spare him, I wanna know.” Rick replied firmly.

“Well, I can tell you, it’s a small group— maybe just me and Glenn.” Dale said quietly. Iris looked to Glenn, who sat on the piano stool between Rick and Dale, looking fairly guilty. He looked up at Dale, who seemed pained at the expression on his face.

“Look, I— I think you’re pretty much right about everything, all the time, but this—“

“They’ve got you scared!” Dale argued.

“He’s not one of us.” Glenn replied simply. “And we’ve… we’ve lost too many people already.” Dale clutched his hat in his hands, knuckles turning white. He pointed it to Maggie in question.

“How about you, do you agree with this?”

“Couldn’t we continue keeping him prisoner?” Maggie asked after a moment. She looked down at her father who sat impartial on his sofa.

“Just another mouth to feed.” Daryl replied quietly in answer.

“It may be a lean winter.” Hershel added.

“We could ration better.” Lori argued.

“Well, he could be an asset.” Dale tried.

“How so?” Iris asked.

“Give him a chance to prove himself.” He pleaded.

“Put him to work?” Glenn asked.

“Sounds like a chance to bring his group down on us.” Iris retorted.

“We’re not letting him walk around.” Rick said firmly.

“We could put an escort on him.” Maggie proposed.

“Who wants to volunteer for that duty?” Shane snorted.

“I will.” Dale huffed.

“I don’t think any of us should be walking around with this guy.” Rick stated, shaking his head.

“He’s right. I would’t feel safe unless he was tied up.” Lori agreed.

"We can’t exactly put chains around his ankles, sentence him to hard labour.” Andrea murmured.

“Look, say we let him join us, right? I mean, maybe he’s helpful. Maybe he’s nice. We let our guard down and maybe he runs off, brings back his thirty men, like Iris said.” Shane explained.

“So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt?” Dale asked, bewildered. “If we do this, we’re saying there’s no hope. Rule of law is dead, there is no civilization.”

“Oh my god.” Shane grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Could you drive him further out, leave him like you planned?” Hershel suggested.

“That doesn’t guarantee our safety. Or his.” Iris replied, looking at Dale pointedly. He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“They barely came back this time.” Lori murmured, clutching her hand to her chest as she turned to her husband. “There are walkers, you could break down, you could get lost—“

“Or get ambushed.” Daryl added.

“They’re right, we should not put our own people at risk.” Glenn agreed.

“If you… go through with it, how would you do it?” Patricia asked. “Would he suffer?”

“We could hang him, right? Just snap his neck.” Shane offered.

“I thought about that.” Rick sighed. “Shooting may be more humane.”

“And what about the body? Do we bury—“ T-Dog started.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on! Hold on! You’re talking about this like it’s already decided!” Dale cried.

“We’ve been talking all day. Going around in circles. You just wanna go around in circles again?” Daryl asked, standing straight.

“This is a young man’s life!” Dale yelled. “And it is worth more than a five minute conversation!” He huffed as the room fell silent, all of them turning to him. “Is this what it’s come to? We kill someone because we can’t decide what else to do with him? You saved him! And now look at us. He’s been tortured. He’s gonna be executed. How are we any better than those people we’re so afraid of?” There was a long beat of silence as they considered what he was saying. Iris sighed.

“We all know what needs to be done—“ Shane murmured.

“No, Dale is right.” Rick decided. “We can’t leave any stone unturned here, we have a responsibility—“

“So what’s the other solution?” Andrea asked.

“Let Rick finish.” Lori scolded.

“We haven’t come up with a single viable option yet.” Andrea stated, putting a hand on her hip. “I wish we could—“

“So let’s work on it!” Dale yelled.

“We are.” Rick replied calmly.

“Stop it. Just stop it.” Carol grumbled. “I’m sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn’t ask for this. You can’t ask us to decide something like this. Please, decide, either of you, both of you, but leave me out.”

“Not speaking out, or killing him yourself. There’s no difference.” Dale said pointedly with a humourless smile.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Rick huffed. “Anybody who wants the floor before we make the final decision has the chance.” There was a long pause as Maggie and Patricia sat down, the silence deafening. Dale looked around frantically to everyone, hoping someone would say something before stepping toward Rick.

“You once said that we don’t kill the living.” He said.

“Well, that was before the living tried to kill us.”

“But don’t you see? If we do this, the people that we were, the world that we knew is dead.” He spat. “And this new world is ugly, it’s harsh. It’s survival of the fittest. That’s a world I don’t want to live in. And I don’t believe that any of you do. I can’t. Please. Let’s just do what’s right.” He breathed as they waited through another beat of silence. “Isn’t there anybody else who’s gonna stand with me?”

“Dale,” Iris said quietly from her windowsill, “the world has always been ugly, but it’s only going to get uglier. The world you knew is dead. I think all of us would agree that killing this boy is wrong. Fundamentally. But if we don’t play along, we won’t survive. We can all be idealistic and want to live in a better world, but this is the only world we’ve got. And I can’t speak for anyone else here, but regardless of the world around me, I want to live.”

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SKELETONS | ch. 12

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: Iris and Daryl search for Sophia, alone in the woods. Which would not be a problem, except for horses don't do snakes, and Andrea doesn't do common sense. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; blood, accidental injury, improper medical care/first-aid, everyone keeps shooting each other for no good reason, violent levels of sarcasm, this writer is an avid Andrea hater

Chapter 12 - Easy Mistakes

They traveled a few more miles along the creek, Daryl following a game trail through the forest. A flock of crows burst out from behind a bush, flapping off into the sky, and the horses grunted in surprise. Daryl spoke lowly and calmly to them, keeping them from dashing off or bucking either of them down into a ditch. They moved onward, but Iris got the sense that the horses were a little more nervous than they’d been before.

A hiss startled Daryl’s horse suddenly, a snake camouflaged in the leaves on the ground slithered forward toward it, baring its fangs. Iris gripped her reins as his horse reared, whinnying loudly. Her's followed suit, but she hadn’t kept a tight enough grip, and she landed flat on her back behind the horse with a grunt, losing her breath.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Daryl tried, but the horse was having none of it. He was tossed to the side, and Iris swore as he tumbled down a steep hill, the horses running off. Daryl half-rolled down the hill, his body hitting the ground hard as the litter became rock, and he hit the water of the creek bed.

“Daryl!” Iris called, skidding down the hill and gripping trees to keep her upright along the way.

“Son of a bitch.” She heard him say, scrunching his face in pain. His forehead was bleeding, and she had no idea what kind of injuries he might have sustained. The water around him started to bloom with deep crimson and he rolled onto his back. Iris slid on her hands and feet down the rock toward him, soon knee deep in the water.

She gasped as she saw the wound, one of the arrows on his back spearing clean through his side. It was shallow enough not to have caught anything but muscle, but any injury was life threatening in the woods, never mind with flesh-eating freaks sniffing you out. He groaned in pain, leaning his head back in the water.

“Fuck.” Iris muttered. She leaned down, grabbing his crossbow from the water before helping him stagger to his feet slowly. He leaned on her and they crossed the creek, the other side providing a drier area to access the situation. His hand was clutching his side, the bloody arrow shifting with every movement. To his credit, he barely made a sound, grunting every so often with effort. “Sit down.” She directed him to a fallen log and he sat, wincing as she brought out a knife. Iris slung the crossbow over her shoulder and sliced through his shirt, ripping the sleeves off and tying them together to make a very long rope.

“Breathe in.” She instructed as she tied it around his waist, knotting the ends together around the arrow. He did as she instructed. “And out.” As he let out the breath, she tightened it quickly, and his breath turned into a muffled cry. It would stabilize the arrow until they could do something about it, but she was hesitant to touch it until they were somewhere safe.

They both looked up as a branch snapped in the tree line behind them, bushes rustling. Iris picked up her knife again, taking a defensive position as Daryl staggered to his feet. They needed to move. With one hand, Daryl picked up a stick to help him keep his balance while the other hung over Iris’ shoulder.

The slopes on either side of the creek were steep, but one was slightly steeper than the other, so they picked the latter. It was a slow process, and painful for one of them. Iris slowly climbed upward, picking a path with many trees to lean against as she continuously reached back, helping Daryl move upward. He was getting weaker the longer they went on, and Iris worried they would’t make it back. But there was no way in hell she’d leave him alone in the forest.

“Don’t look back.” Iris whispered. Daryl did exactly that, breathing out anxiously as the fall loomed behind him. He turned forward and met Iris’ face of disapproval. He half shrugged.

“C’mon.” He panted. “We’ve done half.” She nodded, pulling herself up between trees, dirt and soil slipping beneath her feet. She turned back and Daryl slipped, his eyes going wide as he reached up. She grabbed his hand, thanking her quick reflexes as she set his balance, pulling him back to lean against the slope.

She pulled herself up further against a particularly thick beech tree, taking a breath as she turned back.

“Watch—“ He didn’t finish before Iris felt the dead weight of a walker collide with her. She yelped in surprise as she slammed into the tree, wrestling against it. It almost had her pinned, but she drove her knee up in between them, pushing it off of her and down the slope. It snarled as it fell, tumbled, but she and Daryl both heard the sickening crack as bone met rock. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Iris huffed. It took them a while, but they finally made it to the top of a slope. Iris took out a couple more walkers, finding the crossbow particularly handy.

“Don’t get used to it.” Daryl grumbled as he sat down on a boulder.

“No promises.” Iris replied. She pushed it behind her as she untied the sleeves around his middle. He hissed as the arrow shuffled and she looked up at him. “I have to pull it out.”

“I know.” He nodded. He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. It was ruined anyways. He grit his teeth, clamping his jaw shut so he didn’t bite down on his tongue.

“On three.” Iris said, watching him as she gripped the front half of the arrow. “One—“ She ripped it out quickly and Daryl cried out, leaning back and pressing a hand to his wound. Iris tied the sleeves back around his middle, but it wouldn’t do much to stop the bleeding. She paused, biting her lip before making a decision.

Daryl watched as she untied the bandana from her hair. She wore it daily, whether it be holding her hair back, around her neck, even just hanging from her pocket. She’d never been without it. He had no idea where it was from, what it meant to her, but he watched as she ripped the fabric in two, folding each rectangle into a tight square and using his sleeves to bind them to the wound. They would help stifle the bleeding, hopefully.

“You alright?” She asked, looking up at him. He nodded and she tucked a now-loose strand of hair behind her ear. She sighed, pushing herself up. “You lucid enough to lead us back to camp?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, standing up. He winced, shifting a little to test the makeshift bandages. He nodded again. They walked slowly through the forest, as fast as they could go without making it worse.

“So what’s the story with the chupacabra?” She asked, making idle chatter. He huffed.

“I know what I saw.” He stated plainly.

“I’m sure you do. Did you happen to be eating any funky-looking mushrooms at all?” She asked, glancing at him with a small smile. He huffed, understanding her attempt to be funny, but little did she know.

“I might have.” He replied, giving her a stern look. Her smile widened and she shook her head.

“You remind me of my brother.” She said quietly, looking forward through the trees.

“You have a brother?” He asked, looking down at her. She pursed her lips.

“Had. And he was my cousin, really. But we were raised as siblings. Felix.” She trailed off, smiling softly. “He was the first one I saw turn.”

“‘M sorry.” Daryl said quietly. Iris nodded.

“He had no sense of humour, either.” She teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, scowling. She raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, case-in-point. He shook his head, turning forward again, but she saw the little smile on his face.

They made decent time, all things considered. The others would all be back at the farm by now, but hopefully that meant they could pick up that something went wrong. There was a very tall, diseased tree at the edge of the farm, and that made it easy to know when they were close. Daryl was staggering a bit, the blood having soaked through the bandana, his shirt and the sleeve bindings.

One of the loops on Iris’ knife belt must have been lose, or maybe the snap came undone, but one of her knives slipped and fell to the ground. Daryl turned, but Iris lightly nudged him forward.

“Keep going. They should know we’re alright.” She said quietly. He nodded, turning back as she bent down to grab her knife. She stood, fixing it back onto her belt as Daryl slowly made his way through the tree line. He was swaying a bit. He might need a blood transfusion after this, too. Iris’ head snapped up when the shot echoed through the field.

Daryl went down like a sack of potatoes, crumpling.

“Daryl!” She yelled. She ran forward, kneeling down beside him in the grass. He groaned, reaching up and hissing as his fingers met the graze on the side of his head. Iris sighed in relief, standing up. She held her hand up to block the sun, seeing Andrea perched on the roof of the RV, rifle in hand. Shane, Glenn and Rick were already running through the field.

“What the hell.” Daryl mumbled. His head lolled to the side as he lost consciousness. Pulling out a strip of fabric she’d ripped from his discarded shirt, Iris held it tightly to the side of his head, tying it to help the bleeding. With all that blood, he looked like a walker, in all fairness.

“What happened?” Rick asked, seeing Daryl on the ground as they ran up.

“Andrea fucking shot him, that’s what happened. Who the hell let her have a rifle?” Iris snapped, looking over at Shane. They knelt down, hauling Daryl up between them. “Careful of his side.” Rick nodded, noting the blood soaking through his shirt.

“We’ll get Hershel. The horses came back hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, I wish we had, too.” She murmured. Iris adjusted his crossbow on her shoulder as Andrea and Dale sprinted toward them through the field.

“Oh my god!” Andrea cried. “Oh my god, is he dead?”

“Unconscious. You just grazed him.” Rick replied.

“But look at him.” Glenn paled. “What the hell happened?”

“Snakes, walkers, human error.” Iris grumbled. She pulled the doll out of his pocket. “We found this.”

“That’s Sophia’s.” Dale muttered.

“We found it washed up on the creek bed. She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere.” Daryl explained as Hershel stitched up the arrow wound inside the farmhouse. He was holding a thick chunk of gauze to the side of his head. Iris watched with folded arms from the doorway, Rick kneeling beside the bed.

“Cuts the grid almost in half.” Rick murmured. He turned, glancing at Shane, who stood by the window.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Daryl said pointedly.

“How’s it look?” Iris asked Hershel.

“I had no idea we’d be going through the antibiotics so quickly.” The old man stated as an answer. Iris snorted. He and Rick looked to each other, speaking without words. They both left the room, soft voices coming from the living room. Shane huffed, walking out, and Iris nodded to Daryl.

“Feel alright?” She asked. He made a face, leaning back into the first soft bed he’d laid on in months. “Get some rest. You definitely earned it.”

The group started gathering for dinner once Carol announced she’d finished cooking, and the table was set up for a feast. It looked nice, but the tension between Rick and Hershel was palpable, and it seemed everyone else had their own problems they brought to dinner. Iris felt bad for Carol. She filled up a pair of plates, bringing them both back to the room Daryl was occupying. He sat up as she came back in, accepting the plate from her. He’d showered since Hershel stitched him up, no longer covered in dirt and blood, and ditched the bloody wife-beater.

“Thanks. You should go eat with the others.” He mumbled, fork already halfway to his mouth.

“I’m good. It’s awkward enough in there.” She replied, perching on the bench in the window. “How are you feeling?”

“About as good as I look.” He replied lowly.

“You did a pretty good thing today.” She pointed out.

“I didn’t do anything Rick or Shane wouldn’t have done.” He retorted.

“Well, you did almost steal those horses.” She joked, and he cracked a smile.

“You probably saved my ass today.”

“Probably?” She asked sarcastically, and he almost threw a pillow at her.

“I’m trying to thank you, and you’re being a smart-ass.” He grumbled.

“I know.” She replied. “You don’t have to.” He shook his head but said nothing more, and they ate together in comfortable silence.

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SKELETONS | ch. 16

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: Iris quickly recovers from her accident and has a brief discussion with Daryl. Rick decides the group needs to know a little more self-defence. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; recovering from a car accident, daryl being sentimental (yes, deserving of a warning), discussion of surgery, training a kid to use knives, walker dismemberment

Chapter 16 - Recover

When they pulled in and Iris shambled off of the bike, she ignored Daryl as she staggered toward the camp. Andrea, Lori, Carl, Dale and T-Dog came rushing toward her. Shane was nowhere to be seen, and she was glad for it.

“Oh my god, are you alright? What happened?” Lori asked.

“Fuckin’ deer.” Iris mumbled, reaching up to touch her head wound and scratching off some of the blood. “I’m fine.”

“Come on, let’s make sure you’re alright.” Dale beckoned, pulling her into the house. Andrea handed her a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She mumbled. Carl came in quick, followed by an exasperated Lori.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, I never meant for this—“ Lori began.

“It’s alright. Not your fault. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring them back.” Iris replied, her speech a little slurred. Lori shook her head.

“Shane went to find them.” She murmured. Iris nodded, running a hand over her face.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Carl said, offering her a smile. Iris tried to reciprocate, flicking his large hat.

“Thanks, cowboy.” She replied.

Daryl peered through the window into the sitting room from sitting on top of his bike, messing with the rubber of the grips.

Beth was still dehydrated and catatonic in the morning, and Iris was annoyed at the throbbing headache in her brain by the name of Daryl Dixon. Also, the real, painfully throbbing headache from her concussion. Just thinking about their conversation irritated her. Not because she was genuinely mad, because she wasn’t. But because an argument like that was so incredibly childish given the circumstances. It was petty and ridiculous, and had no real merit. She knew it, Daryl knew it, and yet it sort of felt good to just let off a little bit of steam. But not at the expense of a concussion.

Iris stepped into the bedroom of the farmhouse to see Maggie sitting beside her sister, stroking her hair. She had her hand clutched tightly around Beth’s, small tears in her eyes.

“How’s she doing?” Iris asked.

“Okay, as far as I can tell.” Maggie murmured.

“Do you need anything?” Iris asked, tilting her head. Maggie offered her a small smile.

“Nah, I just wish my dad was here.” She replied.

“She’s a strong kid.” Iris stated and Maggie nodded, more tears lining her eyes.

“I was just reminding her about— nevermind.” She murmured.

“About what? I’d love to hear…” Iris replied softly.

“My dad would die if he heard this.” Maggie grinned. “My first summer back from college, I drove home, dumped my stuff off, went straight out to the stable for a ride. My family comes back from church and Beth grabs my things and starts unpacking my stuff upstairs.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, until this one here starts rifling through my backpack. She finds this little plastic container with these pink and green candies inside.” Maggie continues. Iris smirked knowingly, nodding along. “She didn’t even know I was on the pill. She was so freaked out by the idea of me, boys and sex that she runs outside and chucks them in the duck pond. And I ride up, I see this, I’m screaming. She’s crying and Shawn runs outside, thinks one of us is drowning.

Soon as he figures out what’s going on, the jerk busts out laughing so loud that my horse rears up and gets mud all over the three of us. My dad comes out, ‘what the heck is going on out here?!’ and she turns around, bats her eyelids and says, ‘we’re just swimming, daddy.’ In her Sunday dress, all covered in snot and mud.” She stopped, sniffing as a tear ran down her cheek.

“Rick, and Glenn, they'll get Hershel. They’ll be back soon and she’ll be up and at ‘em.” Iris consoled. Maggie nodded.

“Glenn’s a good guy.” She murmured.

“Yeah, he is.” Iris replied, offering a teasing grin. Maggie huffed at her expression, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You sure you wanna come?” Shane asked as he and Daryl loaded the back of the SUV with weapons. Daryl looked slightly out of place wearing a shirt with sleeves, his red bandana tied around his neck. He did have his angel-wing leather vest, however, which eerily reminded Iris of home.

“Bite me, Shane.” Iris replied sweetly, offering a smile as she double-checked all her knives. Daryl’s lips curled up at the corner and he looked up, seeing Iris turn away from him. Shane raised an eyebrow, exhaling through his nose as he slammed the trunk shut. T-Dog and Andrea walked over, bringing over some food for the road, just in case.

“Guys.” Andrea said, pointing to the road. A red chevy was driving toward the farm, rather quickly. They didn’t stop at the camp, instead pulling right up to the house. Carl and Lori came out right away, everyone at the camp jogging to meet them. Rick, Hershel and Glenn got out of the truck, present and accounted for, and seemingly unharmed.

“Dad!” Carl cried, leaping into his arms. Rick embraced him tightly, Lori joining quick. Maggie ran out and Hershel stepped forward, expecting to meet her, but she sidestepped him, hugging Glenn instead. Iris’ eyebrows shot up but she didn’t say anything as Hershel scoffed, walking toward Patricia.

“Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery.” He instructed sharply.

“Surgery?” Iris asked, frowning.

“Who the hell is that?” T-Dog asked, pointing to the unknown kid sitting in the backseat of the chevy. There was a strip of red fabric over his eyes like a blindfold, but he seemed either asleep or unconscious. His lips were pretty pale, and Iris suspected the kid was the one who was injured.

“That’s Randall.” Glenn answered, seemingly over-it. Daryl, Andrea, T-Dog and Dale approached him while Iris approached Rick with a few others, expecting an explanation.

“We couldn’t just leave him behind.” Rick offered once they all got reacquainted, gathering together in Hershel’s dining room. “He would’ve bled out, if he lived that long.”

“It’s gotten bad in town.” Glenn stated, shaking his head.

“What do we do with him?” Andrea asked.

“I repaired his calf muscle as best I can, but he’ll probably have nerve damage. Won’t be on his feet for at least a week.” Hershel announced, wiping his hands with a cloth as he walked into the room.

“Do we want him to be on his feet? We don’t know this kid.” Iris murmured.

“He’s just a kid.” Rick replied. “But once he’s up, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road, send him on his way.”

“Isn’t that the same as leaving him for the walkers?” Andrea asked.

“Nope.” Iris said pointedly.

“He’ll have a fighting chance.” Rick agreed, nodding.

“Just gonna let him go?” Shane asked with a scoff. “He knows where we are.”

“He was blindfolded the whole way here. He’s not a threat.” Rick retorted.

“Not a threat. How many of them were there? You killed three of their men, took one of them hostage, but they just ain’t gonna come looking?”

“They left him for dead. No one is looking.”

“We should still post a guard.” T-Dog murmured.

“He’s out cold right now, will be for hours.” Hershel explained.

“You know what? I’m gonna go get him some flowers and candy.” Shane spat. “Look at this, folks! We back in fantasyland.”

“You know, we haven’t even dealt with what you did at my barn yet.” Hershel said loudly, stepping toward Shane as he meant to leave. “Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all— This is my farm. I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. So do us both a favour— keep your mouth shut.” Iris grinned widely. Shane sucked on a tooth, sighing as he looked over everyone around the table. He spun on his heel and left.

The group slowly dispersed, cooling off as they got back into their rounds of… as close to normalcy as they could get. Iris leaned her head back as she stood in the sun, letting her skin soak up some vitamins before she went to sit in the shade. She heard the tall grass crunching behind her and opened one eye, looking at Daryl as he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“If it isn’t my hero.” She murmured. She wasn’t mad about it anymore, but she wouldn’t let everything go right away.

“Don’t call me that.” He replied softly. She opened one eye again, turning to face him. “I ain’t your hero, and you ain’t mine. But you saved my life, and I saved yours. We’re even.”

“Are we?” Iris replied, raising an eyebrow. Daryl paused, looking down at his feet before shaking his head.

“Nah.” He muttered, stepping closer. Iris froze, unsure of his actions before he grabbed her hand and placed his red bandana into it, closing her fingers before letting it drop. She held it up before looking to him.

“What’s this for?”

“’s so it’s an even trade.” He replied simply. For the one she’d ripped and given him, to staunch his bleeding. At least, if she needed this one to save her life, it was already red. Her face softened as she looked down at the bandana in her hands, and he was almost uncomfortable with how genuinely she looked at him next.

“Thank you.” She said softly. He said nothing in return, simply nodding before turning and making his way back toward his tent. Iris didn’t think he, or anyone, frankly, noticed how much that bandana meant to her. But over the past week or so, she had found herself reaching for it and finding it gone. Now, at least, she had this one.

Daryl didn’t bother to mention that he had also asked Carol if she could help him remove the stains from her old one and try to sew it back together.

Dale let Iris know that he’d explained to Rick how he felt about Shane, and what Shane had said to them. Each threat, each choice, each part of Shane that made him a danger to the group. And Rick took Shane on a little drive to set it all straight. Well, to drop off Randall as well, but to set Shane straight was a big part of it. Iris understood how Rick thought he should do things, but Shane was as much of a ticking time bomb as the damn CDC. Except his actions weren’t triggered by the ramblings of a crazy doctor, it was all him.

Iris… she didn’t think Shane was going to make it. He was going to blow, or he was going to get exiled by the group, or he was going to be killed, or die. He wouldn’t do any of it without a fight, but the way Shane did things was not what built a long term community. An army, maybe. A group of crazed survivalists, but not a community. Not what the world needed.

“Iris.” Rick called, stalking across the camp. The triumphant leader returns.

“Yeah.” She called, looking up from her knife collection.

“Shane and I spoke, and we agreed that we need to start using our knives more. To keep quiet and save ammunition. Take a page from your book.” He explained, gesturing vaguely to her weaponry. She nodded, tipping an invisible hat dramatically. Rick’s lips quirked upward and he took a breath. He took everything so seriously. “I was hoping you could give us some direction at some point. Best ways to take down a walker with a knife, face to face or from a distance.”

“I’m not opposed, for sure. But the throwing thing, that comes from years of pre-walker practice.” Iris explained, sitting back and looking up as he squatted down next to her. She picked up a throwing knife, aiming and letting it fly. About twenty feet away, T-Dog lurched to the left as the knife embedded itself in a target she’d carved. “Sorry!” She called. He made a face, waving her off. Rick chuckled.

“Alright then. Face to face it is.” He agreed. “Can you start with Carl?” He asked. Iris blinked, but that was the only surprise she would show.

“Of course.” She nodded, shaking his hand as he got up and walked off to his next leadership task. She turned to see him kicking rocks up and down the road. He looked rather bored. “Hey, cowboy!”

“Yeah?” He asked. Iris waved him over and he started running, meeting halfway.

“Your dad wants me to teach you some knife skills. You in?” She asked. He grinned.

“Okay, we’ll start with this one, alright?” They were a little ways in the forest and she handed him an average size knife. Long enough, sharp enough, small enough. Lori and Rick both knew where they were and Carol volunteered to come with, to watch and learn. “This is a pretty standard size, good for learning. You can keep that one, okay? But you take care of it like a chef, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed, flashing a grin.

“Now you can grip it forward, or you can grip it backward, but however you grip you stick with it so you don’t drop the knife. This determines how you stab the walker.” She explained. “Now the method that works the best is to take it down first, especially because a lot of ‘em are gonna be taller than you till you grow, okay?”

“Okay.” He stood up, copying her stance and she smiled. She whistled sharply, and a single walker groaned as it started toward them in the forest.

“You wanna kick out their knee. So you can do this from the front or behind, whichever is safest in the moment. From the front, you can either kick it out to break it, and the walker falls pretty straight, or you pull, and they fall toward you. That’s a little more dangerous. From the back, you kick forward so they fall away from you.” She explained. Once the walker got close enough, she demonstrated, and the walker slumped to the ground without much fight.

“What happens if it doesn’t fall the right way?” Carl asked.

“What matters is it gets on the ground and that you feel in control. If you panic, it gets unsafe.” Iris replied. "Now once the walker is on the ground, you pin ‘em. If they fall on their front, put your foot right here at the base of their neck, between their shoulders. Pins their head and arms sort of at the same time.” She replied. “C’mere, put your foot up, see how hard you have to hold it?”

“It’s strong.” He grunted, the walker fighting against the ground.

“Mhm. Don’t underestimate them, alright? They might be mindless but that means they’ll do whatever it takes to sink their teeth in.” Iris warned. Carl nodded. She took over again, finding it much easier with more practice. “Here, I’ll dismember squirmy here for our practice.” She reached down with a longer knife, cutting off the walker’s arms so he couldn’t reach for them. Iris tossed them somewhere in the woods.

“Gross.” Carl recoiled, covering his nose because of the smell.

“Get used to it, cowboy.” Iris grinned. “Now until you get stronger, it’s better to find the weaker places on the skull to stab them. That means eyes, under the chin, in the ear, or here.” She pointed to places on her own head. “You can feel on your own head for the soft parts versus the thick skull.”

“Like right here?” He asked, pointing to a particularly soft spot on his own head.

“Bingo, little man.” She agreed. “Now why would it be better to choose a soft spot?”

“Because its easier to stab?” He asked.

“That’s half of it. Wanna venture a guess, Carol?” Iris called, catching her attention. Carol shrugged.

“So it’s easier to pull out?” She asked. Iris put her fingertip to her nose.

“Exactly. You find yourself in a position where you need to fight off more than one, it’s a hell of a lot easier when your knife doesn’t get stuck because you chose to shove it through some thick bone. These guys might rot, but they rot slow. Now take your time, you can kill this one, okay?”

She motioned to the armless walker she was holding down, and in one swift motion, Carl buried the knife in the base of it’s skull, and it stopped wriggling. He pulled the knife out in a second motion, rubbing the gore off on the walker’s clothes.

“You’re a pro!” She beamed, and Carl grinned back. “You wanna try one now? I think I hear another one coming.”

“I… I’m nervous.” Carl admitted, gripping the knife tight in it’s hand.

“You got this. You watched me, you know how. I’ll be right here, nothing’s gonna happen to you, cowboy.” Iris encouraged. She watched as the smaller walker approached, and Carl ran around to the other side, kicking it’s legs out. Iris smiled as he used both feet to pin it down, planting the knife into it’s skull.

“I did it!” He cried. Iris held up her hand and he gave a gnarly high-five. She half turned, smiling to her other student.

“Your turn, Carol.” She invited. Carol paled a little and cleared her throat.

“I’m okay just watching, for now.” She said quietly, smiling softly at Carl. Iris nodded.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. Let’s go again, cowboy. Try a different direction.”

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Text

SKELETONS | ch. 10

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: The group preemptively settles in at the farm. Iris finds herself risking her life once more, only this time it's a little more futile. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; surgery on a young boy, blood donation, memorial for a murder victim, iris drinks a lot of juice, planning search parties for a lost child, discussion of zombie contaminating drinking water

Chapter 10 - At What Cost

Hershel continued to check Carl’s vitals as the sun set. They were all holding off as long as they could, but they could only wait so long before Carl’s life was at risk.

“Pressure’s dropping again. We can’t wait much longer.” He warned.

“Do you need more blood?” Iris asked, offering her arm.

“No, you can’t give much more.” Hershel denied.

“I should go.” Rick mumbled.

“Go? Go where?” Lori asked, blinking.

“He said five miles. They should be long back by now. Something’s gone wrong.”

“Are you insane? You’re not going after them. Your place is here. If Shane said he’ll be back, he’ll be back. He’s like you that way.” Lori assured.

“I can’t just sit here.” Rick protested.

“That’s exactly what you do.” Lori snapped. “If you need to pray or cry or tell God he’s cruel you go right ahead, but you’re not leaving, Rick. Carl needs you— here. And I can’t do this by myself. Not this one. I can’t. I can’t.”

Hershel allowed each of them full access to their facilities, meaning soap and a hot shower, which they were grateful for. Rick told Lori and Carl stories as they waited for Shane to make it back. Iris ate, for Carl’s sake, even if she felt guilty for it. Maggie made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was the best thing she’d tasted in months, aside from the orange juice. She’d even slept.

At one point, Glenn and T-Dog showed up to get his wound treated and to bring a few antibiotics and pain killers they’d found.

“How you doing?” Iris asked as T-Dog ate across from her.

“We should be asking you the same thing.” Glenn stated. Iris shrugged, on her eighth glass of orange juice.

“Drinking them out of house and home.” She replied, wiggling the glass. He chuckled. “T-Dog?”

“I’m alright. It hurts.” He replied. Iris nodded. “You’re pale.”

“Thanks.” She replied, grinning.

“Iris!” Lori cried from the room. Iris stood abruptly, feeling her head rush.

“Woah.” Glenn helped steady her, taking her into the room. Carl’s blankets were mussed and Rick was straightening him back out across the bed.

“He needs another transfusion.” Hershel said quietly.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She agreed, sitting down in the chair.

“If I take any more out of you, your body could shut down. You could go into a coma. Or cardiac arrest.” Hershel explained. Iris didn’t have to look at Rick or Lori to see them staring at her. Neither one of them asked her to do this, nor did they want to ask her for more. But seeing Carl… He was such a hopeful kid. Happy. Eager. Despite everything. Iris didn’t hesitate.

“Do it.” She stated, offering her arm. Hershel set up the transfusion again, Carl’s parents at his side.

“He’s still losing blood faster than we can replace it. And with the swelling in his abdomen, we can’t wait any longer, or he’s just going to slip away.” Hershel explained after a while. Iris sat, staring up at the ceiling. “I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You have to make a choice.”

“A choice?” Lori asked, horrified.

“A choice.” Rick nodded, turning to look her in the eyes. “You have to tell me what it is.”

“We do it.” Lori decided. They held each other tight, Hershel nodding to his daughter, Beth.

They moved Carl to a metal table, Patricia pulling a lamp close by, bringing the surgical instruments. Just as Hershel gripped the scalpel, Otis’ truck pulled in. Iris sat next to Carl, waiting as they brought the instruments in. Rick and Lori waited outside.

It was a couple hours before it was done, Hershel going back out to announce that he was stable. Iris was barely lucid in the chair beside him, but she was glad to be there with him.

“Iris.” Lori whispered, walking in.

“He’s doing good.” Iris whispered. She was white as a sheet, her lips paler than Carl’s. Lori sobbed, kneeling beside them and taking Carl’s hand once more. Shane appeared in the doorway, some sort of relief on his face. He looked up at her, nodding.

“Stay.” Lori whispered. Shane paused before nodding. When she turned away, he disappeared. Iris sighed, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Fuck me.” She muttered.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Lori whispered. Iris only nodded, and Lori took her hand, too.

By the time the morning came around, Iris was already feeling much better, though they wouldn’t let her help as the others collected rocks for Otis’ burial. Apparently something happened on the run, and Shane had returned without him. Wouldn’t be much of a burial.

Iris sat on the porch railing, watching the others work. The roar of Daryl’s motorcycle sounded in the distance, and she watched him pull up with the RV, a new SUV in tow. T-Dog went inside to get Rick and Lori so they could have a group conversation.

“How is he?” Dale asked, the lot of them gathering on the lawn.

“He’ll pull through.” Lori said, smiling in relief. “Thanks to Hershel and his people, and Iris.”

“And Shane. We would have lost Carl if not for him.” Rick added. Dale sighed in relief, bringing Rick in for a hug. Carol embraced Lori fairly quickly.

“How’d it happen?” Dale asked.

“Hunting accident.” Rick replied. “That’s all, just a stupid accident.”

“You look like shit.” Daryl said quietly, approaching Iris on the porch.

“Boy, do you know how to sweet-talk a girl.” She replied, looking up at him. He half-shrugged.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She huffed. “Just waiting for my body to make some more blood.” He nodded. He stepped forward, and Iris raised an eyebrow as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. She grinned, almost ready to bust out laughing.

“Alright.” He said simply, turning back to the others.

Once they were ready, they all walked a ways down the road to a large oak tree, where they’d brought the stones they collected. One by one, everyone placed a stone on the growing pile in memory of Otis, while Hershel read a funeral passage.

“Blessed be God, Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother, Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child’s, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived. In Grace. Shane, will you speak for Otis?”

“I’m not good at it.” Shane mumbled. He wore Otis’ old clothes, his head newly shaved down to the scalp. Iris raised an eyebrow at his refusal, leaning against Glenn, who had offered himself for support. “I’m sorry.”

“You were the last one with him.” Patricia stated, through her tears. “You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning.”

“We were about done.” Shane murmured. “Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad, ankle all swollen up. ‘We’ve gotta save the boy.’ See, that’s what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. ‘Run.’ He said. He said, ‘I’ll take the rear, I’ll cover you.’ And when I looked back…” He paused, limping forward toward the wheel barrow of rocks. “If not for Otis, I’d have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning, it was his.”

Once the memorial was finished and the group dispersed, Rick gathered a few volunteers to talk about their search for Sophia. Hershel joined in, curious as to what the situation was.

“How long has this girl been lost?” He asked, Daryl, Iris, Shane, Andrea, and Rick all standing around the hood of the station wagon.

“This’ll be day three.” Rick replied. Maggie came over, laying out a map of the area on the hood of the car.

“County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations.” She stated, spreading it out. She placed stones on the corners to hold them down.

“This is perfect.” Rick murmured. “We can finally get this thing organized. We’ll grid the whole area, start searching in teams.” Iris opened her mouth, but Hershel pointed at her.

“Not you.” He said firmly. “You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out.” He turned to Shane as well. “And your ankle— push it now, you’ll be laid up a month, no good to anybody.”

“Guess it’s just me and Rick.” Daryl stated. Rick nodded. “I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there.”

“I can still be useful.” Shane insisted. “I’ll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back.”

“Alright. Tomorrow then, we start doing this right.” Rick nodded to Iris, who huffed.

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives.” Shane stated. “They need the gun training we’ve been promising them.”

“I’d prefer you not carry guns on my property.” Hershel stated. “We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp.”

“All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here…” Shane warned.

“Look, we’re guests here.” Rick shook his head. “This is your property and we will respect that.” He looked at Shane pointedly, who exhaled sharply through his nose. Rick put his revolver on the hood of the car, waiting. Shane slammed his pistol alongside it but stared right through Hershel. Iris raised an eyebrow, carefully placing her gun down. “First things first: Set camp, find Sophia.”

“What happens if we find her, and she’s bit? Or… worse?” Iris asked quietly. “How… how do we handle that?”

“You do what has to be done.” Rick replied.

“And her mother? What do you tell her?” Maggie asked in disbelief.

“The truth.” Andrea replied. Hershel shook his head at Maggie as they exchanged a look.

“I’ll gather and secure all the weapons.” Shane offered. “Make sure no one’s carrying until we’re at a practice range, off-site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience…”

“Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun.” Rick explained, looking to Hershel questioningly. The old man sighed, nodding. “Thank you.”

“That stuff you brought… got anymore antibiotics, bandages, anything like that?” Maggie asked.

“Just what you’ve seen.” Andrea replied. Maggie pressed her lips together.

“We’re running short already. I should make a run into town.” She stated.

“Not the place Shane went?”

“No, there’s a pharmacy just a mile down the road. I’ve done it before.” She explained. Rick turned around, motioning to Glenn, who was helping Lori set up her tent.

“See our man there, in the baseball cap?” He asked. “That’s Glenn, our go-to-town expert. I’d ask him along, just to be cautious.” Hershel nodded to Maggie, who nodded back as she walked over to him.

Iris made her way to where Dale had laid out a tent for her. It had belonged to Jim and Jacqui, but they didn’t really need it anymore. She took her time setting up the tent, sitting on the grass and enjoying the shade. She watched as Daryl and Rick had a brief conversation near the porch before Daryl stormed away, obviously mad about something, like usual. It was nice to have a moment to herself, a moment to relax.

But of course, moments like that were fleeting, and soon Dale and T-Dog came running from out in the field, where Maggie had directed them to the second of five wells on their property. The two of them led Iris, Maggie, Lori, Glenn, Andrea and Shane to the well, where the old wood boards had apparently rotted and broken, a few telltale raspy growls from inside the well telling Iris everything she needed to know.

Shane shone a flashlight down into the well, and for the first time in a while, Iris felt sick to her stomach at the sight of a walker. He’d been there a while, clearly, as his flesh had ballooned up with water, bloating in the most unsightly way.

“Looks like we got us a swimmer.” Dale mused.

“You don’t drink from here, do you?” Iris asked, glancing to Maggie. She shook her head.

“We use it for the cattle.” She muttered, scowling.

“How long do you think it’s been down there?” Glenn asked.

“Long enough to grow gills.” Andrea replied, cringing.

“We can’t leave it in there. God knows what it’s doing to the water.” Lori replied. Iris tilted her head, taking the offered flashlight from Shane and angling it downward.

“I don’t see any open wounds, but its hard to tell from here.” She pointed out.

“We gotta get it out.” Shane said plainly.

“Easy. Put a bullet in it’s head.” T-Dog replied.

“Well that’s a real quick way to contaminate the drinkable water.” Iris said, looking up with an amused expression.

“She’s right. Can’t risk it.” Shane agreed.

“So it has to come out alive?”

“So to speak.” Shane replied with a smirk.

“How do we do that?” Maggie asked. Within a few seconds, they had fashioned a rope with a loop at the end and a fishing line with a canned ham hooked at the end. Iris had plainly stated that this wasn’t going to work, but the rest of the group argued that they may as well try. The walker was very disinterested.

“He’s not going for it.” Dale observed.

“Because a canned ham don’t kick and scream when you try to eat it.” T-Dog replied.

“He’s right.” Lori agreed. “There’s a reason the dead didn’t come back to life and start raiding our cupboards.”

“So, what, we catch a squirrel or something for live bait? Where’s Daryl when you need him?” Iris scoffed, looking around the farm.

“Well, we need some kind of live bait.” Andrea said, turning to Iris. She looked up, glancing at her companions as they all nervously looked to her.

“Oh, really? I’m glad that I’m the sacrificial lamb in all of your eyes.” Iris grumbled.

“It’s not—“ Dale began, but Iris waved him off.

“You’re light and you don’t turn tail at danger. You’re a good fit.” Shane stated, shrugging.

“Gee, thanks. Just give me the damn rope.” She mumbled. They looped one end of rope around the metal spout of the pump and Iris braced her feet on the pipe spanning the diameter of the well. Shane began tying the rope around her legs in a series of knots she didn’t know the names of, assuring her they wouldn’t come undone. “Have I mentioned that I love the new look?” She joked, trying to brush off the nerves.

“Don’t stress. You got it, sweetheart.” Shane assured, patting her on the back.

“Yeah, I don’t like that.” Iris replied.

“Me either. Felt weird as soon as I said it.” He agreed, flashing her a grin. Iris smiled back, shaking her head.

“I’d like to be mostly unharmed when I go to bed tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dale offered a nervous smile. They all took their places along the rope, as if it was a game of tug-of-war.

“I thought you’d make me do it.” Glenn whispered to T-Dog over his shoulder.

“I guess you owe me one, Glenn.” Iris called, earning a nervous laugh from the boy.

“We got you.” Andrea assured.

“You people are crazy.” Maggie groaned, worried.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Iris challenged.

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