Survival Instinct

Legal stuff (?): TRIGGER WARNINGS OF INFANT DEATH, CHILDHOOD ABUSE AND ABANDONMENT, AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS THROUGHOUT.

I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE WALKING DEAD CHARACTERS OR CANON LOCATIONS.

I DO OWN TESSALY AND ARABELLA CLARKE.

Author's note: I love me my Daryl and my OCs lol one of these days I'll write a Rick/OC but today is not that day. I started watching the show about two weeks ago and I'm on season 5. For the most part, this is a continuation from (the last one I watched) episode 15 "Try". Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

But Tessaly had been wrong. Running for the woods HAD been the way to survive. For a self-efficient human being, not a 5 month old baby. Tess had been so sure they could do it. Arabella could survive on breastmilk. She knew how to hunt. She had been so sure they could do this.

And they had. Tessa didn't think to keep track of the days, and by the time she did, it had been too late. It felt like a couple months, though. She always trusted what she felt. For the good and the bad.

A couple months after the Turn, winter hit. Too much cold air hit Belle's lungs. Too much snow hit Tess' skin. Too much mucus. Too much crying. Too much blood.

Too much winter.

Tessa knew by the way Belle's lungs growled, the heat of her forehead, and the red stained lips that she only had hours, if that, with her life. She held her tight, against the curve of her breast and melting into her soft stomach, till her aching arms turned numb.

Her entire world. Gone.

But, Tessa quickly learned, not quite dead.

Every single night Tessa dreams of holding her baby girl again. A lot of the times, they start innocent. Belle babbling. Tessa laughing. Holding Belle inches from Tessa's face, trying to get her to say, "Mama". She never did. There was always a deep bellied laughter, one that earned Belle another nickname 'Belly'.

"Belly, Belly, Belly…" Tessa would sing song, tickling Belle's tummy.

Then Belle will laugh a little too hard, choking on her own drool, and instead of clear saliva spraying out, it was red. It dripped down her chin. It clotted in her mouth. It caused Belle to gag. It was the beginning of the end.

Every single night Tessa dreamed about stabbing her 6 month old baby girl in the head.

Every single morning Tessa thought about shooting herself in the head.

Survival was stealing. Survival was killing. Survival was ruthless.

What a mantra, but that was Tessa's. Place to place she went, people to people, camp to camp. Everywhere she went, they'd wish she never came. If they had the breath to wish it.

In her first life, she fought hard to forget the 'teachings' of her sociopathic father. In her second life, she realized it wasn't something he had taught her, but it had always been inside her.

When Tessa finally gave into them, it all became so easy.

So much so, she wondered if instead of spending her whole life fighting it, she embraced it, if Belle would still be alive now.

Her sociopathic thoughts told her yes, if she took care of the hospital as she'd been taking care of camps, Belle would be here, but her humanity whispered in the back of her mind that Belle wouldn't have even made it out of the baby daddy's body.

Tessa breathed heavy from her noise, shaking the baby thoughts from her brain. It happened a little too much for her comfort, and sometimes she worried she'd go back to how she was. Weak. Pathetic. Naïve. She focused on brushing her thick hair with her fingers. She was squatting near a tree, preparing for a food run. A lot of the local places have been tapped out, but she had to go for one more sweep before deeming south Alexandria done.

She braided her hair back, wrapping a rubber band around the end. Tessa jumped into a standing position when she heard a twig snap in the distance. She straightened her backpack and pulled her pistol off her belt. Her fingers tingled in anticipation. Yeah, let of steam before she headed out. Make the day all that more enjoyable. She peered out from around her tree, but then paused.

It was a little more than Tessa should deal with. She should run. But she should have done a lot of things in her life.

Tessa jumped out, gun at the ready, and started firing.

"Come at me, mothertruckers!" She cried out and began running backwards, eyes still on the zombies. She glanced behind and saw two trying to get her from behind. Tess quickly switched angles and shot them in the head, back to back, but turning back to the herd, she slipped on leaves.

"Ahhhh!" She screamed, snapping for a second. She felt primitive. Them, beasts. Her, women. Die or be dead. The limb had ripped her top below her black bra, a red line showing its track. One of her arms was still straight out, shooting, and the other pulled the tank top apart the rest of the way. She shrugged it off her shoulders, balled it up, and threw it as hard as she could. The zombies in front of her looked at the crumpled shirt, momentarily distracted.

Tessa took the moment and ran to the sturdiest tree she could find. With a big trunk and thick, low hanging limps. Without a second thought, she climbed a few levels high. She steadiest herself and took her aim.

"Come at me!" Tessa yelled again, with the advantage, and started firing.

Daryl Dixon had slowed his bike to a stop. He pushed his oily hair out of his eyes and squinted off in the distance. There was a herd of walkers, making a beeline into the woods. They had stumbled upon something… or someone.

Aaron got out of the car. Daryl didn't know his last name, nor did he really care. He was the person who Daryl had to currently trust to have his back and that was that.

Daryl looked back at him. He had that stupid listening device to his ears. The white one with a funnel, that could hear from far away. The thing made Daryl uncomfortable. How much did this guy already know about him without his approval?

It was besides the point right now. Daryl had to focus. Ain't got no time for worrying about that in a middle of a hunt. Feelings will get you killed.

"There's a women. Fighting the roamers," Aaron informed, then leaned back in to grab his guns. "We have to try to help."

Daryl chewed the inside of lip, but nodded once. "Yes, we do."

He pulled his bowstring into position and readied an arrow.

With one finger, Daryl motioned towards the wood, and they crept through the woods, silently killing any walkers they passed.

"Come at me, mothertruckers!" The girl yelled and Daryl watched as she took out a line of walkers. He also watched two come up from behind.

Aaron prepared to take aim, but Daryl held up his hand. "Hold," he muttered. He was interested how this was going to play out. If them walkers got close enough to attack, he'll send the arrows himself.

But the girl could handle her own. She twirled around and took them out, but she slipped, and fell into a tree. Shirt got caught. Shirt got ripped.

"Ahhhh!" She yelled, a look flashing her face. A look of completely losing their shit.

"She's a mad women," Aaron whispered from behind him. Yeah. Yeah, she is, Daryl thought, but instead of fear or repulsion, he felt impressed.

She continued fighting but pulled off the remaining material of clothing. Threw it as a distraction. The girl was good. With the walkers momentarily preoccupied, she ran for higher ground, and found it. Climbed a tree.

Yelled again, "Come at me!" Took aim. Fired.

He was mesmerized. Amazed. He thought the girl looked up and caught his eye, but she had no reaction.

"Daryl?" Aaron hissed from next to him.

"No," he snapped back, eyes not leaving the girl.

Then her pistol began to click, click, click instead of pow, pow, pow.

Aaron readied himself to help now, but Daryl still shook his head.

"No." It was barely a breath of the word.

The girl took a deep breath then, shielded her gun, and pulled out a knife. Then she jumped.

"Mad women…" Aaron echoed his previous words.

She took the walkers on, stabbing each of their heads. In the longest thirty seconds of Daryl's life, he watched her kill every one. She stood there for a moment, victorious.

Then she threw her hands up and starting screaming again, "WHAT! Told ya to come at me, told ya. TAKE THAT!" The words she was yelling didn't even make sense and she was yelling them the dead.

"Her." The single word escaped his lips before his brain even thought it, "We need her."

She turned towards their direction then and gave a sick smile.

"Ya pervs like the show?" She asked, knife up, and strode towards them.