Amelia- may's story isn't all that different from anyone else's. The word went to shit, and the dead don't want to die. She has lost people and so has everyone else. Who she was before isn't who she now but here is one difference between Amelia may and every other survivor she as come across. She does't know who she was.. and who she is? Well, she is still trying to figure that out. During the mayhem of the beginning of the apocalypse, a fateful smack on the head stole her memory. All she has ever known is the world she is living in now but that doesn't means she's adept to surviving it, Eventually she ends up on deaths door until a man on a motorcycle chooses to save her life. Amelia- may has to decide if who she was is worth fighting for or if she'll fight that comes with what's forgotten and strive for something better with the one man who can see past it all.


13. He could've picked us off when we were runnin.

Daryl couldn't sleep, everything was a mess. They had no gas or propane to bring back. No vehicle. All their supplies were in flames. They were days from anyone coming to the rescue and someone was seriously messing with them. People usually  just shot at him or kidnapped him , none of this dicking around. He didn't like to be cornered and she sure as fuck didn't like being played with. More than all that though, he didn't really like  that Amelia was in just as much danger as he was.

He turned his head to look at her. She was curled up on her side, hands folded beneath her face, her knees bent pressing lightly into his thigh. She was breathing steadily, her eyes closed and her face as calm as ever. The blackouts seemed to take something out of her. Maybe not the energy but more like her power. He could see how much she hated it , how much of a burden she thought she was. He didn't see her like that.


He'd watched her take those walkers down. She was like a tornado, destroying everything that barred her path. It was both amazing and scary. If they could find a way to use that strength and keep her emotions in check at the same time, there'd be no stopping her. 

At that moment, the big issue was making it through the moment and figuring out who the hell was after them. The hours passed in complete silence. It began raining again just as morning broke, soft rumbles of thunder mingling in the quiet. He reached over, propping himself up on one elbow and gently smoothing his hand down her upper arm. " Amelia, wake up." He said softly. He felt her stir. She opened her eyes, blinking at him sleepily. Then she stretched, the whole length of her body lining up against his before she relaxed on to her back. He couldn't help the sudden hitch in his throat, the fluttering in his stomach. He had to clear his throat a little.

" We should make our way out , see if we can find a vehicle." He said, turning away and getting off the bed, hooking his crossbow over his shoulder , the strap across his chest. He rubbed his hands through his hair hastily and then down his face, taking a deep breath and letting out in an attempt to ease the sudden rush of need she'd brought about in him. Then he moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside to peer out. She stood up, blowing out the nearly melted candle , grabbing her gun and tucking it into the back of her jeans. She stepped up to his side.

The walkers had thinned out considerably. They still see smoke up on the hill, the gas fire probably still burning strong even with the downpour. He opened the window, shoving the screen out. " Come on." He said, and he hoisted himself out into the small, triangular roof, getting a foot hold and turning around to help her out. Once there, he took a good look around before lowering himself down and letting go, landing a little awkwardly and backing up into a bush. She followed, feeling Daryl catch her a bit when her feet hit the ground. And then they were off, headed for the treeline like they'd discussed when they first  thought to use the window as an escape

The rain was steady, soaking into their clothes and hair but hey both ignored it. Daryl admired that she didn't let the little things get to her, glad she didn't have a problem with getting down and dirty when need be. Once they hit the trees, they just kept going. The could have looked around the town for a car, but with whatever asshat there was still probably out there waiting for them, their safest bet was hoofing it to the highway and snagging something there.

They kept a steady pace for awhile, the rain pattering around them, bouncing off leaves as they made their way through the trees. If they calculated right, the highway should have been somewhere on the other end, just east of Gray Lake. For a bried moment, Daryl thought  they might just be home free.

They burst out of the woods onto the pavement and were met with a heavily congested graveyard .of a highway. There were cars everywhere, back to back, bumper to bumper. And there were walkers , to. They both instantly crouched down beside a rusted out Lincoln. There weren't more walkers than they could handle, but they also didn't want to draw attention to themselves. He peered though the foggy windows, then over the hood. " Come on." He whispered. " This way." And he made his way around the front of the car, staying low, moving quick as Amelia was right on his heels.

They wormed their way around, zig-zagging through the river of vehicles till he found what he was aiming for. There was a two door hatch back parked off to the side of the road, free and clear of the mess. It looked in tact , possibly unstable. He tugged at the handle. It didn't open. He went around to the other side and tried the passenger door. No luck. He looked around , looking for something he could muffle the sound of breaking glass with. He settled for a backpack that was leaning up against the tire of a pickup. He pressed it to the driver's side window , then pulled his gun out of his holster, pressing the muzzle deep into the fabric. He shot once, a reverberating pop and a thudding crack were heard but nothing loud enough to get the attention of the walkers.

He dropped the bag and pushed against the broken glass till it fell forward, and he unlocked the doors. They both got in, Daryl shoving the broken glass onto the floor boards as she reached for the wire box to hotwire the care, his left leg stretched outside the car so he could get a better angle. That's when he sound of a gunshot rang out , and his leg instantly felt pain. Searing and jarring all at once, blood splattered around him as he cried out, dragging his leg into the car as he nearly piled himself on top of Amelia. " Daryl!" He heard her cry out, hands holding him to her. He looked at his leg, a nice gaping hole in his thigh.

" FUCK!" He swore, breathing quickly. " Run!" He said , and reached around her to open her door again. There weren't any further gunshots but neither one of them was going to take any chances. Daryl spent two arrows as they made their painful was down an incline into a field, downing walkers. She stabbed another in the head with her free hand, yanking the blade out as they went. He could feel his leg become heavy beneath him, the slick wetness of his blood soaking into his ratty black jeans. It hurt like a sonofabitch but he kept moving and so did she.

Eventually, they came up to a darm house, panting and mostly out of breath. It was shuttered up and  worn out, looking like it had seen better times. She helped him up the steps, setting him down , eyes wide and searching the area frantically. Then she put her gun down and practically ripped the buttons on her shirt as she took it off, a white t-shirt beneath. She ripped the shirt to shreds, using the knife then wrapped a strip around his thigh about the wound. " Sorry about this." She said to him, watching his face then she tied both ends and tugged. Hard. He hissed out between his teeth, pain immense as she tied it firmly in place. Hurt like fucking hell, but he knew it was necessary. He had to fall back on to the porch for a moment, hands going to his face. She put a hand on his chest. " Hang on." 

Amelia got up and moved to the door. She turned the handle and it gave easily. She disappeared inside before he could protest about her going alone. After a moment, he heard a few pops from her silencer. He turned onto his side, grabbing up his crossbow and growling as he forced himself to his feet. " Amelia!" He called out her name in worry, moving to the door, his foot not quite cooperating with him. A moment later, she appeared, hands moving to him.

" There were a couple of walkers in the kitchen." She said plainly, helping him into the house and kicking the door closed behind her. She helped him to a rocking chair in the corner. He sat with a grunt, a hand moving to the wound on his leg. " I need to get that bullet out." She said, putting her gun down and disappearing again, this time into a room beyond. The place was a mess. Someone had ransacked it. Even most of the furniture was in bits.

She came back with a steak knife, some dish towels and a bottle of jack she found. He just looked at her, breathing heavily. " Shit." He said. She smiled at him lightly, kneeling down, her butt on her feet as he peeled apart the material in his pants to see the wound better. She used  towel to wipe at the blood, then opened the bottle of Jack.

" Ready for this?" She asked. He just grimaced a little and gripped the sides of the rocking chair. She took that as her cue and poured the Jack on his wound. His head went back, the vains in his neck exposed as he hissed against the pain. She dipped the knife into the bottle and simply went to work. It felt like an eternity, but she was actually pretty quick about getting the bullet out, The whole ordeal took less than a minute.

" Sonofabitch...." He muttered, relaxing his hands, taking a deep breath and letting it out fully. He left light headed. She handed him the bottle of Jack and told him to drink it.

She cleaned his wound up as best as she could, using the towels to make a better bandage and then wrapped the tie she'd made out of her shirt around it. Once she was through, she simply let out a sigh and then sat back completely on her ass, holding his leg between her own, looking up at him. Her skin was glistening with rain and sweat, her hair sticking to her. He met her eyes and they just stared at each other for a long moment, silently taking a stock of everything that had just happened.

" He could've picked us off when we were runnin." Daryl finally said, his voice low. " Whoever he is. Stupid bastard. ' m gonna rip his throat out, fuckin asshole." He mumbled on before taking another swing of the jack and then resting the bottle between his thighs. She squeezed his leg a little.

" How do you feel?" She asked, giving him a sheepish and concerned look. He closed his eyes a moment and shook his head.

" Had worse." He said. When he opened his eyes, she was still watching him. There was a look of her face he couldn't quite place, but it made him feel... calm. He motioned to her. " You didn't black out." He said. She blinked at him, like it hadn't occurred to her.

" I didn't." She said very softly, her eyes moving to the bandage she'd made on his leg. All the mayhem, the dear and the anger she'd felt .. she breezed right through it. He couldn't help but to wonder why and he could see she was wondering the same thing. " Figure it out later." She said then, looking back at him and getting to her feet. She stood over him, then reached forward with both hands and pushed his hair out of his eyes, running her fingers through his wet strands. " Don't go anywhere, Daryl Dixon." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Something he totally had not expected. It stilled him and silenced him at the same time. She straightened up and smiled at him. " Gonna look around , see what I can find."

And she left him sitter there, his heart like a wildfire in his chest only burning for her.

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