Show: The Walking Dead.
Name: Always Remember.
This is a work of fan-fiction. These characters do not belong to me and I do not benefit from this in any way other then having fun.
Enjoy and if there are any mistakes, please notify me so I can fix them!
The road seemed endless to the man with dark brown hair as he stalked down the side of it. His crossbow was slung over his back and while the weapon did provide a sense of comfort to the hunter, his lips were pressed together in annoyance as a car broke the calm silence. Soon enough the car was beside the man, after revving its engine to catch up to him, and was now crawling at a snail's pace to remain beside him. The hunter glared at the car, the writing on the side of vehicle proclaimed it belonged to the Sheriff's department, but the man merely huffed and continued on his path.
"Are you Daryl Dixon?" one of the men inside the car had leant out the window to speak to him, but the man could only focus on the slight crook in the man's nose that just seemed to irk the hunter.
"Maybe." Daryl growled back in a thick southern accent that dominated his voice before he paused as he decided whether or not he wanted to trouble himself with the deputies. "Why?" The effort to be nice, despite how irritated the hunter was, was clearly obvious in his tone as he kept on moving down the side of the long road.
"Did you report a stolen pick-up truck?" The hunter stopped and whirled to face them as soon as the man with the crooked nose mentioned his truck.
"Yeah." Daryl continued to glare at the man with his blue eyes before he crossed his arms and waited for the deputy to reply.
"Okay, we are going to need you to come down to the station so you can fill out a proper file-"
"No." The hunter almost snorted his answers before he turned around and started to walk down the road again. There was a brief silence before the car quickly started up to keep up with man.
"Excuse me?" The man almost spat the sentence out with awe as he watched Daryl's lengthy strides as he tried to get away from the people wasting his time.
"I've got a lot of shit to do and I've already been set back enough as it is." The hunter spoke with disdain as he shuffled the crossbow on his back so it sat more comfortably.
"You're not going to get anything done without that truck of yours." A voice from inside the car spoke, but Daryl couldn't see the other person when he glanced briefly into the vehicle, so he turned his attention back to the road.
"That's why I'm going to get it." The hunter growled, the effort to be nice was gone and his tone was filled with annoyance as he walked. "I swear you cops don't know jack-shit these days." Daryl murmured the last part to himself but grimaced when he heard the car door suddenly open before it hurriedly screeched to a halt.
"What did you just say?" The deputy seethed as he stalked towards Daryl. His tone was as tense as his muscles as he gripped the hunter's shoulder and twisted the man to face him with such force that it caused the other man to stumble.
"I said you cops don't know shit." The hunter viciously spat back after he had regained his balance. His eyes glared fiercely at the deputy as the tension between the two of them rose and became thick in the air. "Now you gonna fuck off or what."
"I think I'm going to fuck you up you inbred piece of shit!" At this point, the deputy had placed his palm on his handgun, his anger had clouded his mind and was telling him that the other man was practically begging to be shot. His fingers were already starting to curl around the handle and would have continued to draw it from his holster if not for the second deputy who had placed himself in between the two tense men.
"Shane, calm down." He placed a gentle hand on his partner's shoulder and spoke in a tone that seemed to lessen the tension in the air. "We are here for his report. If he doesn't want to have it done he doesn't have to. You know that."
"You should listen to your friend you stupid shit." Daryl couldn't help but sneer at this 'Shane' from behind his new shield, and while his voice was smug, there was a dangerous undertone that showed that the rage in him was far from disappearing.
The man that was shielding the hunter from his partner gave a small sigh before he glanced at Daryl over his shoulder with cloudy blue eyes. "You're not exactly helping."
"I wasn't trying to help pretty boy." Daryl crooned into the deputy's ear as he mocked him. A pale pink seemed to flush over the taller man and the hunter couldn't help but frown as his heart skipped a beat. He quickly turned his attention to the deputy with slightly crooked nose and suddenly released a roar. "I just want to go get my god-damn fucking truck!"
"Go then! It's clear you don't want our help!" Shane snarled in retaliation as he shoved his partner's hand angrily from his shoulder. "Let's go Rick." He scowled while he said the words, as if he had just admitted defeat before he turned and stormed back to the Sheriff's car.
His partner watched the angry man leave as he walked away with heavy footsteps before he turned to the hunter and stared at him with blue eyes. "If you find your truck don't start anything that's going to end up with us being there."
Daryl couldn't help the spiteful leer that graced his features as he spoke with a voice that venomously dripped with sarcasm. "Yeah, wouldn't want you city-slickers getting your hands dirty, would we." The hunter fingered the small machete he had on the back of his belt; his mind ran over the idea of really doing some damage before he crushed the thought and withdrew his hand. Daryl Dixon may be impulsive but he definitely wasn't idiotic.
"No. We wouldn't." The deputy almost breathed the words out before he took a few steps backwards. "Just don't do anything stupid."
"You calling me stupid boy?" The hunter abruptly questioned the other man. His southern voice showed the intent behind his words; the desire for a fight pulsed through them as clear as water while his sharp eyes challenged the deputy's cloudy ones. The deputy only shook his head in response before he gave Daryl a tired smile.
"No; I'm telling you to be careful. Don't forget that."
The deputy walked away after that. His firm back disappeared into the car along with his cloudy eyes before the vehicle drove away, leaving Daryl in the wake of the dust it had kicked off before he turned back to the long road to continue his journey.
"Fucking cops; always making things more complicated than they should be." The hunter murmured to himself as he once again moved his crossbow to a more comfortable position on his back. The weight of the weapon was small reminder of why he needed his truck and before long he was once again stalking down the side of the road. "I better not lose my truck because of this bullshit."
The sheriff's office seemed smaller than it should have been as the dark haired man walked into the building. The air-con hit him almost immediately and the man appreciated the cold air against his hot skin. Daryl would have smiled if not for the sight of cops that had started to openly stare at him, instead he frowned as he walked towards the receptionist. After a quick conversation, she had pointed him to the room where they handled the reports of stolen vehicles.
As he hastily made his way to the room, Daryl scowled at the photographs that had been hung along the walls. Images of the sheriffs as well as other employees decorated the hallway with large smiles. The hunter was still scowling when he finally reached his destination; his expression radiated irritation as his eyes landed squarely on the main desk where a deputy was filling out paperwork. He stalked up to the young man whose eyes practically glazed over him
"Can I help you sir?" the man's voice was tired; the hunter could pick up on it straight away but he merely ignored it as he crossed his arms and answered the simple question.
"I need to report a stolen truck."
"And whose truck is that?"
"You think I'd be here if it weren't mine?" Daryl hissed the words in a low tone as his arms tensed across his chest.
The young man finally concentrated on the hunter, the glaze from his eyes disappearing as stared up at the irritated man in front of him. "Well you never know." The deputy gave a weak smile as he tried to joke with the hunter.
"I'm not here to make shitty conversation. I'm just here so I can get my fucking truck back!" Daryl couldn't help but snarl at the young man who had started to cower slightly from behind the desk.
"Sir could you please mind your language?" The deputy managed to whimper out as desperately glanced around the office to find someone that would come over to rescue him. However, the only help he received were sympathetic glances as everyone avoided the two men like they were a manifestation of the plague itself.
"Are you fucking serious?" The hunter's voice grew thick as he started speaking, his accent becoming more and more apparent through the annoyance that trembled through his words. "Either give me the paperwork or get me the guy who told me to come here!"
'Rick' The name was like a whisper and Daryl was surprised when it squirmed its way into his mind, but he merely brushed it aside before he continued in a scathing tone. "His name's Dick or something."
"You don't mean Rick do you? Rick Grimes?" The deputy had stopped shaking at this point, but the features of his face grew grim as he stared at the hunter.
"Just go and get him!" Daryl snarled at the young man as he slammed his fist on the desk in front of him and sent a pen holder and all of its content flying.
"I can't" The rejection stunted the hunter for only a moment before the shock from the blunt words wore off and his rage rushed back and forced his tone to become even more aggressive.
"Well why the hell not?!" The silence after Daryl's outburst was thick with tension and it easily resembled the one that the hunter had found himself in earlier that day.
"Because he was shot earlier today. They're operating on him right now. He nearly died." The deputy's eyes were sad as he stared at Daryl, and the hunter couldn't help but let his glare soften as he noticed the honesty in the man's gloomy face. "The bullet hit a main artery and he started too bled out. If it wasn't for the other officers there..." the man trailed off as he turned away from Daryl to look at the mess of pens on his desk, his gaze was distant as he absently minded picked up the holder that the hunter had knocked over in his rage.
"Just go get me the damn paperwork then," Daryl's voice was low as he spoke; it scratched at his throat while he reached over and grabbed a few of the pens he had knocked over before he returned them to the pen holder. "Then I'll leave."
"Alright sir." The deputy stood and turned to shuffle through one of the cabinets residing just behind him before he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the hunter. "Here, just fill in the top half." Daryl grunted his thanks as he reached for another one of the loose pens that now decorated the deputy's desk. He easily filled out the form with his messy handwriting before handing both the paper and the pen back to the young man.
"You better find my truck." The hunter muttered but as he started to turn away, he paused and spun back to look at the deputy with frigid shoulders. "And thanks for telling me about Rick" Only after he had said those words did Daryl finally leave the office and as he walked down the hallway to where the door of station was, he looked at the photographs that graced the wall. A flash of blue eyes immediately caught Daryl's attention and he scowled as he whipped his head around and practically stomped on his way out of the station. An uneasy feeling wrapped around the hunter and he scowled as he started the long walk back to his house on the lonely roads.
He wasn't in the mood for hitch-hiking anyway.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank-you for reading!