The Walking Dead: A Better Answer
Title: A Better Answer
Author: Quicksilvermad
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Summary: There isn't much you can say to a person after you've done something like that. Spoilers for "Chupacabra."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Andrea/Daryl
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC.
Dinner was done and her fingers were wrinkled like prunes after washing the dishes. She could hear Carol say something about taking Daryl his plate of food and felt the bottom of her gut drop out.
Andrea felt like an ass. She didn't think there was much she could do to feel better about the man laid up in the spare bedroom across from Carl. So, she kept washing plates and scrubbing pans coated in grease until someone carefully grasped her arms and handed her a dish towel.
She turned around, dripping suds onto her sneakers, and bowed her head when she saw Carol standing in front of her.
"He's fine," Carol said.
"Is he mad?" Andrea asked.
Carol smiled and shook her head. "I don't think he is. You might want to go talk to him now."
Andrea idly wiped her hands on the offered dish towel and stared at the frayed end of one of her shoelaces. "What do you say to someone you've shot?" she wondered.
"'Sorry' seems like a good start," said Carol. Andrea looked up in time to catch the older woman's gentle smile and she nodded.
"Good point."
Andrea handed her the dish towel and headed for the stairs with her hands tucked in her pockets. She hesitated outside the door and briefly considered retreating to her tent for the night.
Her body made the decision for her and she reflexively knocked on the door.
Shave and a haircut…
She heard Daryl scoff. Then, through the door, he called out, "Two bits."
Andrea couldn't stifle the smile at that and carefully peeked around the doorframe at the ragged man lying in bed. He was in dire need of a bath and was curved around a pillow with his back to the door. Andrea's eyes skimmed over the empty plate on the nightstand and landed on his bared shoulders. She could finally see the opposite side of the tattoo she'd been catching glimpses of ever since she met him and scores of scars she'd never noticed before.
"Hey," she muttered.
Daryl tipped his head back over his shoulder to look at her and she bore his scrutiny with a sheepish smile. He looked beyond tired.
"Hey yourself, Trigger," he muttered.
Andrea visibly winced and crossed the room to stand by his right side. She knew he had a thing about looking directly at people when he spoke to them and didn't want him twisting to try and look her in the face.
"I'm really sorry for shooting you, Daryl," she said.
He sighed quietly and seemed content to chew the inside of his lower lip for the moment.
"I don't even know what I was thinking… I mean, the sun was in my face and Dale kept telling me to stop and I just…"
"Shot first and asked questions later?" he inferred.
Sheepish, Andrea sank to her knees and folded her arms on the mattress to prop her chin on. The move brought her face much closer to him and she could see the creases of dirt and blood that were still on his face.
"It was stupid," she admitted.
Daryl seemed to approve of this statement and nodded once. "S'alright."
"I feel like-"
"Ah, cut that shit out, Andrea," he interrupted. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion and he carefully slid his right arm out from under the covers in a plainly calming gesture. "I ain't mad, you didn't do it on purpose, I doubt you'll do somethin' as fool as this again, and…" he sighed once more and sounded rough. "Shit, I'm just tired."
Without thinking, she closed her hand around his.
Daryl watched her as she settled into a more comfortable position by the bed.
"I've got a better answer to your question from the other night," Andrea murmured.
He thought back to their walk in the woods and his concern for her state of mind-of how he made her laugh with his story about being lost in the woods for nine days. "Better be fuckin' brilliant if it takes shootin' me to make you think of somethin' better than livin' just bein' a 'habit,'" Daryl said.
Andrea gripped his hand and watched his eyes droop as the exhaustion became too much for Daryl to fight any longer.
"I do want to live."
She watched the corner of his mouth lift just a little with the snort of laughter that escaped his nose and Andrea decided then and there that she'd do her best to be as strong as him.
For now, she'd let Daryl sleep. He'd definitely earned the rest after the day he'd had.
Good Lord, but this show is inspiring.
Author: Quicksilvermad
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Summary: There isn't much you can say to a person after you've done something like that. Spoilers for "Chupacabra."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Andrea/Daryl
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC.
Dinner was done and her fingers were wrinkled like prunes after washing the dishes. She could hear Carol say something about taking Daryl his plate of food and felt the bottom of her gut drop out.
Andrea felt like an ass. She didn't think there was much she could do to feel better about the man laid up in the spare bedroom across from Carl. So, she kept washing plates and scrubbing pans coated in grease until someone carefully grasped her arms and handed her a dish towel.
She turned around, dripping suds onto her sneakers, and bowed her head when she saw Carol standing in front of her.
"He's fine," Carol said.
"Is he mad?" Andrea asked.
Carol smiled and shook her head. "I don't think he is. You might want to go talk to him now."
Andrea idly wiped her hands on the offered dish towel and stared at the frayed end of one of her shoelaces. "What do you say to someone you've shot?" she wondered.
"'Sorry' seems like a good start," said Carol. Andrea looked up in time to catch the older woman's gentle smile and she nodded.
"Good point."
Andrea handed her the dish towel and headed for the stairs with her hands tucked in her pockets. She hesitated outside the door and briefly considered retreating to her tent for the night.
Her body made the decision for her and she reflexively knocked on the door.
Shave and a haircut…
She heard Daryl scoff. Then, through the door, he called out, "Two bits."
Andrea couldn't stifle the smile at that and carefully peeked around the doorframe at the ragged man lying in bed. He was in dire need of a bath and was curved around a pillow with his back to the door. Andrea's eyes skimmed over the empty plate on the nightstand and landed on his bared shoulders. She could finally see the opposite side of the tattoo she'd been catching glimpses of ever since she met him and scores of scars she'd never noticed before.
"Hey," she muttered.
Daryl tipped his head back over his shoulder to look at her and she bore his scrutiny with a sheepish smile. He looked beyond tired.
"Hey yourself, Trigger," he muttered.
Andrea visibly winced and crossed the room to stand by his right side. She knew he had a thing about looking directly at people when he spoke to them and didn't want him twisting to try and look her in the face.
"I'm really sorry for shooting you, Daryl," she said.
He sighed quietly and seemed content to chew the inside of his lower lip for the moment.
"I don't even know what I was thinking… I mean, the sun was in my face and Dale kept telling me to stop and I just…"
"Shot first and asked questions later?" he inferred.
Sheepish, Andrea sank to her knees and folded her arms on the mattress to prop her chin on. The move brought her face much closer to him and she could see the creases of dirt and blood that were still on his face.
"It was stupid," she admitted.
Daryl seemed to approve of this statement and nodded once. "S'alright."
"I feel like-"
"Ah, cut that shit out, Andrea," he interrupted. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion and he carefully slid his right arm out from under the covers in a plainly calming gesture. "I ain't mad, you didn't do it on purpose, I doubt you'll do somethin' as fool as this again, and…" he sighed once more and sounded rough. "Shit, I'm just tired."
Without thinking, she closed her hand around his.
Daryl watched her as she settled into a more comfortable position by the bed.
"I've got a better answer to your question from the other night," Andrea murmured.
He thought back to their walk in the woods and his concern for her state of mind-of how he made her laugh with his story about being lost in the woods for nine days. "Better be fuckin' brilliant if it takes shootin' me to make you think of somethin' better than livin' just bein' a 'habit,'" Daryl said.
Andrea gripped his hand and watched his eyes droop as the exhaustion became too much for Daryl to fight any longer.
"I do want to live."
She watched the corner of his mouth lift just a little with the snort of laughter that escaped his nose and Andrea decided then and there that she'd do her best to be as strong as him.
For now, she'd let Daryl sleep. He'd definitely earned the rest after the day he'd had.
Good Lord, but this show is inspiring.