Update: June, 2020

Although I marked this story complete a few years ago, I see that it is still being read and enjoyed by many new readers. It still recieves favorites and follows to this day. I still get private messages from readers telling me what it means to them. Im grateful for the feedback. Thank you to all who stumble upon this story and give it a chance. I still get a thrill whenever I get a new favorite story notification. It means so much to me that you readers are keeping Note To Self alive. xx Alva

Welcome to my Daryl/OC fic in which my love for southern gothic merges with my background in Irish/Celtic mythology, myth, and magic. I added Walkers, an outsider girl heroine and an emotionally damaged hero. We got witchcraft, astrology, tarot, spells, telepathy, ghosts, premonitions and fated love all happening as the story moves along in the Walking Dead universe with some of my own plot twists to keep it fresh.

Rated M for language and VERY STRONG sexual content in later chapters. I don't want to surprise you if it's not your thing.

Ultimately, this is a story of redemption. i believe there is good in everyone and that people can grow and change for the better. Its never too late to learn and grow.

*Italics in the story indicate dreams and/or premonitions. Also inner thougts. Remember, there is a lot of prophecy and seeing the future in this tale.

*Sophia is younger in this than on the show. She's about 8.

Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings , etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way affiliated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

.. ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... .. ... .

I am not the first person you loved.

You are not the first person I looked at

with a mouthful of forevers. We

have both known loss like the sharp edges

of a knife. We have both lived with lips

more scar tissue than skin. Our love came

unannounced in the middle of the night.

Our love came when we'd given up

on asking love to come. I think

that has to be part

of its miracle.

This is how we heal.

-Clementine Von Radics

She balanced the bottle of bourbon between her knees. Jim Beam. Danni never drank Jack Daniels, which she considered a rock and roll cliché just by virtue of the sheer number of t-shirts alone its logo graced. The guys in her band loved their Jack she loved her Jim. Danni's dad Kieran had been a Jim Beam man too, when he couldn't get Jameson. She only had a few memories of him, but his Irish brogue and taste for whiskey were strong ones.

She hadn't wanted alcohol in a long time. After being a very big drinker, then an unquestionably bad one, she'd quit over a year ago. Bessie Smith sang to her through her earbuds as she waited for the liquor's anxiety obliterating effect to numb the hard landing as she fell off the wagon. She knew her iPod's battery would eventually die and wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to charge it again. She didn't know much about anything in the future near or far, but bourbon and blues were sure things. She took a swig from the bottle as Bessie belted it out. I can't sleep at night. I can't eat a bite, Cause the man I love, He don't treat me right, He makes me feel so blue, I don't know what to do I ain't had nothin' but bad news, Now I got the crazy blues. She was a singer, so she sang along feeling pretty crazy herself at the moment. She loved classic blues music. The emotion and strength of those women inspired her every day. Bessie, Billie, Ma Rainey. They were the original rock and roll women; underestimated pioneers in the music business, paving the way for Danni as much as Janis or Joan. The alcohol burned, but she didn't cough. She immediately downed another shot to stop that first, quick wave of nausea and the brave feeling washed over her. She could talk to anyone now. At that moment, however, she was alone with no one to tell to. The guys had gone off hours ago. Maybe a day? She and her rock band were on their way to their next show, when they hit the gridlock on the freeway into Atlanta.

"Well, we missed sound check for sure." She had joked aloud, but it wasn't funny. Since the band was touring for the past couple of weeks, they hadn't paid much attention to the news. They were coming from Austin. The first sign of anything amiss was here in Georgia. After hours of confusion and watching stranded motorists panic, her band mates Hayes and Luke decided to walk further up the road for some information. Most of the other stranded motorists were doing the same. She stayed behind to watch their equipment and keep trying to get a cell or radio signal. So here she sat, stranded alone on a deserted Georgia highway, drinking whiskey when she should have been unloading the band's equipment through the back door of the club. Judging by the slanting sun she figured was probably four thirty or five o'clock by now. She should be at sound check setting up her amplifiers, tuning her bass and fighting with the sound guy for more vocals in her monitor.

What is the opposite of stage fright? Stage calm? Stage anticipation? Whatever it was Danni had it. She loved the dirty wooden platform. Its floor covered in pieces of gaffing tape, cigarette butts and tacky with congealed alcohol. The grimy rock and roll stage was her real home; she never wanted to climb down. The air in a dark club was thick and warm, smelling of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Her ears would be full of voices shouting in conversation, bottles clinking and raucous laughter. Before the house lights went down, she loved looking look out over the crowd. The audience was a sea of restless, impatient, intoxicated, diffident or enthusiastic twenty-somethings. She felt real, validated when they watched her set up her equipment, check the mike, crouch down to tune her bass one last time. At each performance a piece of paper with the order of songs to be played was written out with a black sharpie marker and duct-taped to the floor next to her bottle of Rolling Rock beer. She used a thick plastic guitar pick to strum and hit the bass strings. Extra picks were taped vertically on the side of the metal stand that held the microphone in case she dropped the one she was using. Ritual tools. Every club provided a familiar grungy terrain under her converse sneakers or combat boots and an audience at her waist. She had always felt her place was on stage, and that feeling was reciprocated. She'd pretty much run away from everything in her life except the rock and roll stage. She wished she were there right now.

She opened the vehicle's side door for some air. She didn't want to be outside in the southern sun, but felt like a dog in a hot car with the windows up. She leaned against the Marshall amplifier and looked at the woods behind the yellow yarrow flowers bordering the highway. She'd never been an outdoorsy type and the vast expanse of trees made her feel insignificant. The late afternoon heat remained intense so she he twisted her jet black hair and tied it up with a red bandana. She swiped sweaty bangs off of her forehead for what felt like the millionth time. The air on her neck pricked a chill. She stretched out her legs, clad in tight black stretch jeans that rode low on her hips. She had knotted her thin white t-shirt up in a halter. Her black bra was slightly visible under the worn cotton of the shirt.

To pass the time and further settle her nerves, along with the booze effect, she decided to do a Tarot deck dip. Her Nan had taught her to read tarot cards as a little girl, and she'd never gotten out of the habit. Deck dipping was shuffling the cards and picking one to use as a touchstone, rather than lay a full spread. The method worked well in a pinch, when you just needed a little guidance. Danni pulled the Tarot cards and her Nan's own hand written reference book from her army surplus backpack and breathed her energy into them. She shuffled and put the deck face down, then took the top card and turned it over. The Wheel of Fortune. Although she knew the interpretations by heart, seeing them in her Nana Brigid's long hand comforted her and had become a habit. She opened to the page in her book and read: The Wheel of Fortune suggests there are external factors that are influencing your situation that may be unknown to you or outside of your control. It is as though the Universe is just dishing up whatever it pleases at this time. It can feel quite unpredictable and unnerving as a result (especially if you like being in control most of the time!). Danni was a bit of a control freak. This is one of the challenging aspects of the Wheel of Fortune since no matter which way the Wheel of Fortune turns, it is impossible to try and change it. You might as well try to accept what is happening and adapt accordingly. If a crisis seems inevitable, recall that in every crisis lies opportunity. When you have been pushed in a new direction, know that every path leads somewhere, even if you do not know where it is. Such events are simply out of your control, and if you can accept that then the ride gets a lot easier. If you struggle against the Wheel, it will crush you. So just go with the flow! "Go with the flow," was a phrase she loathed. The Wheel of Fortune is about keeping optimistic and having faith in the Universe that it will take care of the situation in the best way possible. You need to remain optimistic yourself, thinking positively. This archetype allows your life to turn in more positive directions if you are willing to grow and expand. This is also a 'lucky' time in life when you are sensing the action of fate and destiny working in your favor. You may even be witnessing miracles or a very fortunate series of events. She processed the message, but it made no sense at the moment. The news going around was that some public health outbreak had hit. Not very national guard had taken over some of the affected towns nearby. Now hundreds of people were trying to get to the city to a refugee center.

"Fuck this." She said to no one. She wasn't drunk, just confident. If she could maintain this feeling, she wouldn't freak out. She would have started to worry if not for the liquor. She would have sat there alone until someone came and told her what to do if not for the liquor. However, after her fourth swig she needed to talk to people. That's what always happened.

The cicada buzz and crickets' chirp were all she heard. She slid down out of the van's side door and slammed it shut. She felt for the keys hanging from her belt and shoved the bottle into her backpack to join her journal, tarot cards and leatherman multi-tool. She then locked the van, and said her goodbye to the tapestry of Elvis hanging in the side window.

She hadn't walked far when she heard voices and spotted a Winnebago RV. She would have approached more slowly if not for the liquor. "Hey. Hi?"

People emerged with caution from behind the vehicle. They were a mixed group of families that included couples with a little girl and boy about eight or so, two blonde women and an older guy who seemed to belong to the RV. Their eyes focused on her navel ring and two sparrow tattoos, one above each hip bone. No one in the distracted looking group spoke so she initiated conversation.

"I didn't know if I'd find anybody else out here. My friends took off yesterday to get some information. They're not back." After a minute of more staring and silence, a younger guy in a ball cap approached. He could haver been a college kid.

"I'm Glenn." He gestured to the others. "Your guess is as good as ours. This is crazy. We're trying to get to Atlanta, to the shelter."

She introduced herself as another man stepped forward. He looked like a grandfather on vacation in his Hawaiian print shirt and worn bucket hat. He smiled. "Well, Danni, you're the first person we've seen in a while too. I'm Dale." He held out his hand. It was a formal, but nice gesture so she shook it.

"Who's alive." Glenn had to add.

"What's going on down at your end of the road?" The guy who asked had an air of authority, like army or something. He was solid and assured with thick dark hair and a deeply tanned face.

"Its dead down there. Nobody stuck around, and nobody came back." She noticed him staring hard, without pretense, at her navel ring as it flashed its red rubies, and at her tattoos that looked as if they really could take flight. His eyes continued to travel from her belt line up to the knot in her t-shirt just under her breasts. His gaze lingered on her body, not on her face, while he spoke.

"Dead, huh nice choice of words." He drawled without a smile. It was then she noticed the writing on his t-shirt said King County Sheriff's Dept. Nailed that one. She knew his attitude by the way he thought he could just stare and take what he wanted with his eyes and run the show no matter where he was or who he was dealing with. Normally cops made her nervous, but not when she was drinking. Nothing scared her then. However, he made her feel uncomfortable despite the fact that she was pretty confident with her body and her style. It had taken years of struggle to get there and she was pissed that she was letting this guy get to her. Creeping me out, she thought, especially since it looked like his wife and kid were nearby. She heard his son speak first.

"I'm hungry," the little boy whined.

"I know Carl baby. We'll eat soon." His mother soothed.

"How? We don't have anything." He persisted.

She turned to the cop. "Right Shane, we'll find something soon?"

"Look Carl, we'll figure out." Shane called over to the kid.

The mom looked exhausted but Danni thought she was pretty dark hair, long and wavy farming prominent cheekbones

"Hey, I have some energy bar things." Danni offered, approaching the mother and son, relived to move away from Shane.

"Really? You don't mind?"

"No, please take them." She pulled four bars out of her bag and handed them to the woman. "I'm in a band and when we're on the road we always have a ton of these. We practically live on them."

"Thanks. This is my son Carl. I'm Lori."

"I have some candy bars too." Danni said quietly to Lori. "But I thought you'd rather have him eat those."

Lori gave her a weak smile. "We'll keep that secret for now."

Carl ran over to a Jeep Cherokee, where a short-haired woman and her little girl sat on the open tailgate.

"Here Sophia, you're probably hungry." Carl gave her one of the power bars.

"You really saved the day there," Dale summed up then added "Come on over, meet Andrea and Amy." He walked her around to the shady side of the RV.

Danni greeted them with a hesitant wave. She assumed they were relations of Dale. Maybe his daughters? Danni joined them on one of the lawn chairs Dale had set out next to the RV. Glenn had since positioned himself on the roof of the vehicle keeping a watch. Small talk revealed that the blondes were sisters, from Florida no relation to Dale. Andrea was probably in her mid-thirties and Amy early twenties. Danni was right in the middle at twenty-eight.

"You said you're in a band?" Glenn asked Danni.

"Yeah." she looked up in his direction."I sing and play bass."

"Anybody I'd have heard of?

"Probably not." She smiled.

"You look kind of punk rock. "

"We are a bit. It's an influence. We're heavy, but there's a melody, catchy hooks." She stopped herself, not wanting to monopolize the conversation. "We're from Austin coming to play some dates here in Georgia. Well, we were on our way."

"Texas? You don't sound like you're from Texas."

"I'm not. Long story short I'm from Minneapolis but I moved to Austin to play music with some friends."

"That's cool. I'm from Michigan. I'm more of a DJ club mix kind of guy."

She nodded."I can see that."

The small talk began to be one difficult. Danni leaned forward to rummage in her bag for a minute, then pulled out the bottle of Jim Beam. "Anybody?"

"Hell yes." Andrea enthused.

"Don't mind if I do. It's been that kind of day." Dale sighed. The bottle made the rounds and the conversation picked up. Although they were strangers stranded on a highway with an unknown future, the bourbon gave Danni the 'everything's gonna be okay feeling'.

"Do you think that Merle guy will come back?" Amy asked, "He was like a total meth head or something. Straight out of an episode of Cops. Creepy guy."

"Don't worry about him. I've dealt with the likes of him and that brother of his my whole career." Shane answered rounding the corner of the RV. "Can I try your CB again Dale?"

Dale nodded, and Shane hoisted himself up the steps into the camper.

"None of this seems real, I mean, you said dead people? Is it like a bad horror movie but real? Voodoo shit out of control? " Danni wondered out loud.

"No, it's a sickness. They bite or scratch you and a fever hits. The fever is fatal." Andrea swallowed hard."When you die, you somehow come back. Your body does anyway." Andrea clarified. "I feel so silly saying it. I wouldn't believe it myself if I didn't see it."

Amy added "When we saw it on the news, CNN for god's sake I thought it was a hoax."

"Nothing! Nothing but damn static." Shane muttered exiting the RV. He shook his head. "You keep trying it Dale."

"I really hope Merle doesn't come back." Amy repeated. "He's scary, I don't care what Shane says. There's only one Shane, but Merle has that brother of his too. I mean they both seem sketchy. And I know Merle is on drugs, it's obvious."

Andrea put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "My innocent little chick. So sheltered," she teased. "Amy thinks those two redneck hicks escaped from prison and are going to murder us in our sleep and steal our supplies."

"Hey, don't laugh. I watch tv I read the news. They have a gun. Merle does. Oh and the other one Daryl has the biggest knife I've ever seen."

"Don't worry, losers like that usually can't get themselves organized enough to pull anything off except their next drug deal." Danni said. "Short on brains, long on being idiots."

"Don't get yourself into a panic." Dale tried to comfort Amy.

After sunset Dale insisted Danni stay with the group rather than walk back to her van alone in the dark. She was glad she didn't when they heard the planes and saw The U.S. Army dropping bombs on the city in the distance. The government gave up. They just gave up. It was clear survival for this group was in their own hands. Atlanta had no refugee center. The city was overrun with the dead.

They watched as parts of the city burned engulfed in crimson and yellow flames. Black smoke billowed into the night sky and the stench of sulfur reached them. Everyone was in shock, either looking at each other or not being able to face one another's terrified stares at all. Danni gazed off at nothing. Shane was the only one moving as he shouted orders. He knew these people needed to pull themselves together if they were going to survive.