Multi-Fandom Imagines

TWD [d. dixon]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Imagine: Getting separated from Daryl while fleeing the prison after it fell.
Warnings: None

You'd been traveling with Rick, Michonne, and Carl ever since the prison fell. Besides running low on food and water you were doing ok. You were much more worried about everyone else. You all got separated when the prison fell and you didn't even know who made it out and who didn't.

So every night, before you fell asleep, you prayed. You weren't the religious type but you prayed that everyone else made it out of the prison safely. Maybe they'd be at Terminus, the mysterious safe haven you had been trekking towards for days. You doubted it, but it helped to hope. It kept you moving.

Your small group decided to stop for the night, legs aching and feet sore. You grabbed a can of green beans from your backpack and used your knife to pry it open. You passed it around, everyone taking a small portion. By time it got back to you there was about 2 full bites left.

But as you stared down at the food, you had no appetite. All you could think about was Daryl. Was he safe? Did he make it out of the prison? What if he was dead?

"I'm sure he's fine."

Rick had a way of reading your thoughts, of knowing what you were thinking about before even you did. You thought it had something to do with being alongside him from the very beginning. You'd gone through hell and grown together.

Michonne nodded, "If anyone was to survive out here, it's him. He'll take care of himself and find his way back to you."

You bit your lip and nodded. Everyone said a quiet goodnight and dispersed around your small camp to sleep. You laid down and rested your head on your backpack, trying not to think about Daryl being out there, all alone.

You were just starting to drift asleep when you felt something cold press up against your neck.

Oh dearie me," a low voice curled around your ear.

Your eyes snapped open. You kept your head still, only moving your eyes. Rick and Michonne were sitting up across from you with guns held to the back of their heads. You couldn't see Carl, as he had climbed into a broke down car to sleep. You hoped he was safe. 

Whoever was behind you grabbed your hair, forcing you to sit up. You gritted your teeth, watching as a group of men surrounded your family. The man behind Rick was talking, and you finally tuned in.

"You screwed up. And I was thinking about turning in for New Year's Eve," he chuckled.

The man behind you took this opportunity to press the cold barrel of his gun further into your neck, and your sharp intake of breath got Rick's attention.

His eyes narrowed, though he said nothing.

"Who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, boys?"

The man started counting down and you felt the sudden urge to scream. You weren't sure what was going on, but you knew it wasn't good.

"Nine Mississippi......eight Mississippi-"

"Joe! Hold on."

You were facing away from the new voice who interrupted, but Rick was turned towards it. His eyes widened, and flashed to you. He looked like he was about to say something, and you shook your head a tiny bit.

What was he doing? He needed to be quiet so these men wouldn't shoot all of you.

He opened his mouth and a name left his lips that you feared you'd never hear again.