Li'l Sparky // [Daryl Dixon]

You Set Me Free

Season: Four

Episode(s): Alone

*Ryan's POV*

"Are we close?" I asked, holding Daryl's crossbow up. Finally, finally, he was teaching me how to shoot. 

"Almost done," he whispered. 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"The signs are all there," Daryl explained. "You just gotta know how to read 'em." 

"What are we trackin'?" I asked as we started walking. 

"You tell me," he said. "You're the one who wanted to learn." I looked down at the trail we were following. There were clear footprints. 

"Well, somethin' came through here," I said. "The pattern is all zig-zaggy. It's a walker."

"Maybe it's a drunk," Daryl joked. 

"I'm gettin' good at this," I grinned. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all."

"Yeah, keep on trackin'," he muttered. We tracked until we reached a clearing with a walker in the middle of it. It was distracted by it's current meal. 

"It's got a gun," I observed quietly. Daryl nodded at me. I slowly approached the walker with the crossbow. 

There was a snap and I fell down. I gasped in agony as I realized my foot was caught in a bear trap. The walker's attention was now on me. I shot a bolt, but I missed and it went through the walker's mouth. 

Daryl grabbed his crossbow back and killed the walker. I tried to pry my foot out of the trap. Daryl slid down and helped me out. My foot ached something awful but I wasn't about to tell him that. 

"Can you move it?" he asked.

"Yeah," I groaned. Daryl helped me up and wrapped an arm around my waist to help me walk. We reached the edge of the woods and found a graveyard and a funeral home. Pain sprung through my leg.

"Can we-- can we hold up a sec?" I grunted. 

"You alright?" Daryl asked. 

"I just need to sit down," I assured him. 

"Alright. Hold up," Daryl swung around his crossbow so it was against his chest. He bent over slightly and gestured to me. "Hop on." 

"Are you serious?" I asked. 

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "This is a serious piggyback. Jump up." I held onto his shoulders and leaped onto his back. 

"You're heavier than you look," he observed. I smacked his arm. He started carrying me towards the funeral home. 

"Maybe there are people there," I pointed out. 

"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle them," Daryl promised. 

"There are still good people, Daryl," I said. 

"I don't think the good ones survive," he shook his head. I stopped him in front of a gravestone. Daryl let me off his back. 

Nov. 12th 1837
Dec. 10th 1874

Beloved Father

Daryl picked some flowers and placed them on top of the stone. I laced my fingers with his and held on tight. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. 

"Thank you," I whispered. 

After a moment of silence, I got on Daryl's back again and he carried me to the funeral home. He opened the front door slowly.