A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
'She'll bring out the best and the worst you can be //Blame it all on yourself 'cause she's always a woman to me' - She's Always A Woman, Billy Joel
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When Erin's eyelids eventually drooped and her body relaxed against Daryl's side, he sat still awhile longer, not wanting to wake her. Her tears had dried, but her sorrow had not, and he figured sheer exhaustion from the emotional beating she'd endured had finally slipped her mind into unconsciousness.
Daryl kept his hand clasped around hers, caressing the bare skin of her wrist which her shirt didn't cover. Her hand was warm, her skin slick with sweat, or grime, or both. Regardless, he held her as she slept, wishing he could guarantee her dreams wouldn't twist into nightmares of what they had both witnessed before. He himself was still reluctant to close his eyes for too long.
Heartbeat pounding in his ears, he turned his gaze to look at her crestfallen face. When her eyes were closed, the strength and ferocity that he had come to associate with Erin was gone. It left her looking... vulnerable. It felt crazy to even think of the woman beside him as vulnerable, but it was the best description he could find for what he saw in the soft contours of her face, her usual harsh angles smoothed out by sleep and her fire extinguished.
He felt something. Sitting so close, breathing the same air, caressing her hand with his. Daryl felt something he'd never admit to anyone, something it had taken him almost a month to admit to himself - Erin was special to him, she made him feel... human.
She was aggressive, stubborn, powerful. A force to be reckoned with. She'd stood up to him and stood up for him. She'd attacked him physically without fear of retaliation, and he'd in turn attacked her verbally without realising the consequences. Erin was strong yet sensitive, aggressive when threatened yet caring when at ease. She could hurt you and heal you, and she wasn't afraid to do either at a moments notice.
And despite all that, despite the back and forth and the pain and the confusion, Daryl was mesmerised by her.
Just the thought would have sent a ripple of repulsion through him mere months ago, but now, sat here beside the most baffling woman he'd ever met, it felt like a reluctant truth.
If any other person, man or woman or other, had punched him so brazenly like she did, he would have returned the favour and then blacklisted them from his life.
But not her.
She had been different ever since the first time she'd stood up to him, staring down his loaded crossbow and still having the guts to throw knives. In that moment, she had annoyed him, obviously, but she'd also thrown him off guard. Here was a woman who stared death in the face and chose to fight back, even if her only weapons were throwing knives and her only advantage was speed.
Daryl didn't know why - and he knew he might never - but he wanted to stay beside Erin for as long as he possibly could. It was as though they were chiselled from the same tree, like they were 'kindred spirits' or some wishy washy bullshit like that.
