❝last man standing doesn't matter when it's a pile of bodies you're standing on. so you fight but you be good.❞
[twd seasons 1-?]
Ⓒ 2019║asgxrdians i own nothing except lindsey and her plot
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter ten: believe in a blood-sucking dog 4241 words
"Pull your gun." Lin's hand went down on her hip, the whisper of metal against leather singing as she yanked the pistol out. She pointed it in front of her, her shoulders stiff and lodged up by her ears. "Relax your shoulders," Lin expected him to reach for them, to push them down like any only instructor would have. When she was still learning how to stitch back in her med school, her instructor would set her hand on Lin's wrist and guide it until she could do it with no help.
Lin forced her shoulders down, the action bringing her elbows in.
"Shoot." Lin squeezed the trigger, shutting her eyes at the kickback. A hand clapped down on her wrist, scaring Lin into opening her eyes. "Don't shut your eyes. If ya missed then you're dead." He squeezed his hand, his blunt nails biting down into her skin, emphasizing the fact that she would have easily been bitten. He pulled his hand back and nodded down the way to their messy target. She'd hit the board but it was far from any kind of kill shot. Her stance faltered and she dropped the gun. Daryl watched it happen, watched her analyze her own actions. "Do it again," he nodded. Lin exhaled and holstered her gun.
"Pull it." She did. "Shoot and keep your eyes open." She did. She steeled her arms against the kickback. The board splintered at the second bullet. Lin, upon seeing her improvement, spun to face Daryl with a blinding smile on her lips.
"I did it."
Daryl had to look away. He just had to. "Don't get too proud sunshine. It was one shot." But Lin could see that he was smiling. Daryl Dixon was smiling. It wasn't big, no earth-shattering grin full of pearly white teeth. It was a tilt of his mouth, the slant of just the corner. He had a mole right by his nose, she noticed, and it shifted with his lips.
Lin had a sarcastic quip on the tip of her tongue. But there was a groan behind her, really close behind her. She jumped away from the noise, her back colliding with Daryl's chest, her gun flying up to aim at the walker ambling their way. Lin's breath lodged right in her throat, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. She knew that the gunshots would attract at least one or two but she wasn't expecting it to be this soon, or even this close.
Daryl's hands hold onto her elbows. Her back on his chest meant that he couldn't reach for his crossbow. She had to take the shot.
"Daryl," Lin started. Her feet were moving, trying to push him backwards. He huffed and it blew the hair away from her cheek.
"Call this movin' target practice." Lin's knees locked, her ankles locked, hell even the joint in her damn jaw locked up at the notion. Daryl tightened his grip, stilling her shaking hands. "Take the shot, Lindsey," he hissed, the walker growing closer by the second. Lin choked on the air stuck in her windpipe and pulled the trigger. The walker went down like a sack of shit. Daryl let her go, just about shoving himself away. Lin inhaled, finally able to pass air into her lungs, and lowered the gun down. She couldn't meet Daryl's eyes, not now. Not after she'd choked again. "Lin?"
