~Rebel's POV~

Sunlight singed my eyelids, forcing me to turn my head away from the dazzling flare. I inhaled through my nose and was assaulted by the scent of khakis and old spice. I felt a tingling running through my right arm, signaling that lack of circulation was happening.

My eyelashes fluttered open and I was met with the sight of Dale's dingy khakis and Hawaiian print shirt.

"Morning, Trooper." Dale said cheerfully.

I grunted and removed my hand from his. I shook it up and down, trying to trigger the circulation again.

"How long was I out?" I asked him.

"A while. Nothing extremely interesting happened though." He lied.

Why would Dale be lying to me? He had given me no reason not to trust him, up until now.

"You're lying to me." I said plainly.

Dale sighed. No way out of it now, huh? He straightened his fisherman hat and ran his fingers through his thick beard. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Glenn is going to tell everyone at breakfast. Can you wait that long?" Dale asked me hopefully.

My head swiveled, noting that it was only sunrise. The sky was a violent red and it singed the treetops, mixing the red and burgundy together, creating a swirling pattern of light and dark.

I nodded, "I guess."

Dale seemed relieved at my answer, like he was glad that he didn't have to share his burden of a secret with me. Lori and Carol had already started to cook the powdered eggs so I wouldn't have to wait long for my answer.

I pushed myself up from the roof of the camper and jumped off the rungs of the ladder, walking over to the campfire.

"Rebel! Sit by me! Please?" Carl whined at me, outstretching the 'please'.

I smiled and sat next to the small, dark-haired boy. He leaned his head on my arm and I felt his greasy hair rubbing against my skin.

Lori and Carol passed around plastic plates of powdered eggs and canteens of water. I glanced over at Glenn and saw him looking around nervously. He caught Dale's eyes and put on a mask of questioning. Dale nodded and Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly.

"There's walkers in the barn." Glenn blurted abruptly.

Silence overwhelmed us before the group broke out into an unsound mind, rapid-firing questions at Glenn. I tuned them out as Daryl mouthed words at me.

I cocked my head to the side, not cathcing the whole phrase.

"Did you know about this?"

I shook my head across the fire at him. He looked at me doubtfully and huffed, consuming the rest of his breakfast.

Shane started to yell at Dale and Glenn, making Glenn tense up. You could plainly see that he was not used to being reprimanded. He had never really been the center of attention for very long.

Shane started gaining leverage on Dale, you could see Shane's face becoming flustered with anger.

"Stop it!" I yelled, not caring if we attracted the attention of the house.

The group stopped arguing and yelling to look at me. I sighed and ran a hand through my flaxen hair, trying to solve the problem at hand.

"We should talk to Hershel, see why he has walkers in the barn." I suggested.

The group started mumbling in agreement. Rick kissed Lori on the cheek and nodded at Carl before walking to the house. I finished breakfast and washed my plate in the metal basin.

Peter kneeled down beside me, cleansing his own plate as well. Even sitting, Peter dwarfed me. He reached for the soap and started to douse his plastic plate.

I saw him smirk and before I could process it, he was squirting dish soap all over my clothes.

"Peter!" I shrieked.

"What?" he asked innocently.

I slapped him upside the head and he burst into a fit of laughter. His plate clattered in the basin and he fell back on the grass laughing. I shook my head and resumed cleaning my plate.

"Come on! That was funny!" Peter said poking me in the stomach.

I squirmed at his touch. I had always been ticklish there and poking me didn't help that. Peter stared at me wide eyed, sitting up slowly.

"You're ticklish?" he asked me.

I gulped and nodded my head slowly, trying to avoid the subject.

By now, we had attracted the attention of the whole group, amused stares inhabited their faces. Peter was grinning like a fool and he was moving closer, inch by inch, closing in on his prey slowly. I crouched my legs, preparing for the escape run I had to make soon.

Silence enclosed us and I waited for the attack. Fear and anticipation bubbled in my stomach, almost pushing me over the edge.

Peter lunged towards me and I jumped away. I scrambled to my feet and ran around the campfire, putting a fair amount of distance between us. I saw Peter grinning evilly at me from across the fire, making my heart race the slightest bit faster.

I had speed.

Peter had strength.

I had agility.

Peter had looks.

Wait, what? At a time like this I'm admiring his features? I've sunk pretty damn low, haven't I.

In the short time I had been thinking, Peter had stalked around the fire and stood in front of me, outstretching his arms.

His large fingers made contact with my stomach and I couldn't hold back the attack of giggles that was fighting to get out.

Peter continued tickling me and at one point, that wasn't enough for him.

He pushed me to the ground and I felt a sharp pain make contact with my shoulder. I couldn't cry out because I was convulsing with laughter. I felt blood trickling down my arm and I felt Peter being pushed off of me.

"Stop it man! Cantcha' see she's bleedin'!"

The familiar voice settled in the pit of my stomach quietly before an outburst of butterflies erupted. My laughing cooled down and I felt myself being carried away from the warmth of the campfire.

"S' it hurt?" Daryl asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders and a bullet of pain shot through my left shoulder. I grunted and reached back to suppress it, but Daryl held my fingers.

"Don't touch it." he ordered me.

I rolled my eyes and tugged my hand away, settling it in my lap as Daryl carried me towards the RV.

He climbed the steps and settled me on the mini-table. I heard him rustling around in the cabinets, looking for medical supplies.

"Dammit." he cursed.

"What?"

"Can't fin' the damn firs' aid kit." Daryl said, letting out some colorful words.

"Hershel probably has some." I muttered quietly.

Daryl picked me up once again and carried me to the paint-chipped house.

"I can walk you know." I told him, scowling.

He ignored me and continued into Hershel's office. Panic was set wide in Hershel's eyes and Rick looked infuriated as he had ever been. Rick glanced at us and his eyes became wide.

"Is she bit?" he all but yelled at us.

"Naw. Tha' Peter kid is jus' a dumbass." Daryl spat on the shining wood floors.

Hershel got up without a word and started to gather his tools. Fear crept up in me as I saw scalpels and other sharp objects being lined up.

Daryl set me on the metal operating table and I felt my mind jumble into incoherent thoughts as Hershel approached me with the tray.

"You know...I think I'm good." I said nervously while trying to slip off the alloy table.

I started to walk to the door, but Daryl blocked my passageway, making me run into his chest.

"Ye' got a rock stickin' ou' o' yer back. Yer not 'good'." Daryl muttered to me, gripping my hand and leading me back to the table.

I boosted myself up and closed my eyes, waiting for the sting of the sharp objects to puncture my skin.

My arm was going numb from blood loss and I felt slightly dizzy. I gripped Daryl's hand tighter, not wanting to cry in front of anyone.

"Deep breath." Daryl whispered in my ear.

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth like I had learned to do at gymnastic meets. It had always cooled my nerves and it made the fear cease.

I felt the prick of the medical instrument enter my tense shoulder and my heart rate picked up again. I tried to breathe in, breathe out again, but I failed.

Daryl placed a warm hand on my knee and I felt the electric shots reverberate through my small body. The sensational feeling enveloped me and I knew Daryl was trying his best to comfort me.

A certain pressure was relieved in my shoulder and I almost cried at how much pain was marring my thoughts at the moment. Tears were building at the back of my eyes and it took my all not to release them.

I heard the rattle of the medical instruments hitting the tray and the wax paper of the bandage being unwrapped.

A cotton material covered the wound in my shoulder and Hershel started to rinse his medical instruments.

"Thas' it? She's done?" Daryl asked in disbelief.

"What," I asked, "you want me to experience more pain?"

"I didn't mean it like tha'." he muttered.

I pinched his cheek and he slapped my hand away, shooting me a death glare. I gave him a cheesy smile and I saw his eyes brighten slightly.

"Yes." Hershel said, "That's all. Now will you excuse us? Rick and I have some matters to discuss. Rebel, stay off your feet for a little bit. Got it?"

I nodded and Daryl took the opportunity to carry me again. He walked back to the campfire and settled me next to him, the fire radiated heat on the two of our bodies.

The group had dispersed to seperate activities, most of them were gathered at the barn and others were at the makeshift shooting range that Shane had set up the other day.

I leaned my head against Daryl's shoulder and sighed contemptly.

If only it could always be this safe.

___________________________________________

Team Peter or Team Daryl. I want to know why too.

Picture on the side is who I imagine Rebel as, video is just a great song.

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