Some Things Are Meant to be Broken
Rule #1: Don't get hurt.
A wounded stranger wanders into the quarry and finds her place among the group of survivors, but staying with them forces her to break all of her rules. ::: Daryl Dixon/OFC
Author's Note: I know there is a lot of Daryl Dixon fan fiction, but I wanted to try my hand at it. Please review and tell me if I should continue or not! I hope you like it.
"Wait! Please, I'm not bit. I just need some help, and I'll be on my way."
The group quickly congregated around the stranger who had just stumbled into the quarry from the surrounding woods. Shane was doing his usual patrol around the perimeter when he spotted the person and everyone soon stopped their chores and gathered around. There was blood, a lot of blood, and it saturated the kid's whole shirt sleeve all the way down to the wrist. Shane, with a gun in hand, stepped closer.
The newcomer's jeans were baggy, as if they once fit before their owner lost some weight. They were covered in filth and holes and tucked into a pair of muddy black boots. A plaid shirt was unbuttoned to reveal another shirt underneath, both dirty and too big. The blue bill of a baseball cap cast a shadow over the stranger's face.
"How'd you know we were here?" Shane asked.
The kid didn't even look up from under the cap. "I saw your fire last night."
"I told ya'll it was a bad idea," Daryl scoffed, keeping a finger on the trigger of his crossbow. "Damn fire."
"Somebody check him," Andrea said from the back of the group, holding her sister close to her chest. "See if he has any bites."
"Just shoot the som'bitch," Merle yelled from beside Daryl and took aim with his shotgun. "S'not worth the risk."
Shane turned back to look at the man who just spoke. "You even think about pullin' that trigger, Dixon, and you gonna have to answer to me." Merle let out a snorting laugh and hitched the barrel of the gun over his shoulder. Shane gave him one more warning glare before turning back to the kid. "What's your name, son?" he asked, walking even closer, and put both of his hands up as a sign that he wasn't going to hurt the newcomer.
"Nick."
"Come on, Nick," he replied. "I'ma help you out."
The stranger slowly shuffled towards the man, hand still wrapped tightly around the wound, as Shane led the way towards the motor home. He swung the door open and helped Nick into the vehicle before stepping in himself and closing the door behind him.
-X-x-X-
"Daryl Dixon, can you come here for a second?" Shane called after he stepped back out of the RV. Daryl groaned and rolled his eyes, but sat the crossbow down next to his brother and walked over to the man.
"Yeah?"
"Nick ain't bit, just hurt," Shane told him, and ran a hand through his hair. "I cleaned out the cut, but it's pretty bad. Still needs to be stitched up."
"Why the hell should I do it?" Daryl asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.
Shane leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "If I knew how, I would," he told the man. "But right now, you're the only one. And it needs to be done."
Daryl chewed on the skin around his nail bed for a second and looked at the door of the RV. "You sure the kid ain't bit?" he asked when he turned back to the man.
"Yeah." Shane nodded his head and put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I'm sure. I checked."
Daryl looked over his shoulder at his brother, sitting too far away to hear their conversation but staring intently at the two. Merle scowled at them and the younger Dixon looked back at Shane. "Fine, I'll do it."
The officer nodded and thanked him. "The stuff you need's already in there."
Daryl grunted in response, swinging the door open and slamming it shut after he stepped inside the vehicle. Nick was sitting at the small table attached the wall of the RV, head down and hand clutching the wrist of the wounded and now bare arm. The needle and fishing line was already sitting on the table in front of the kid, so Daryl grabbed the supplies and kneeled down in front of the booth.
"How the hell you get yerself hurt, anyway?" Daryl asked, rubbing a glob of sanitizer into his hands.
"I fell," the newcomer told him, "and landed on a broken bear trap."
The man huffed, trying to loop the line through the eye of his needle. He finally got it, then took Nick's wrist in his hand, straightening out the arm. The wound was bleeding again, so he cleaned it up with the towel left for him. He let out another sigh; the cut was ragged and would be hard to stitch. Goddamit, he just got back from a hunt and the last thing he wanted to be doing was closing up a hole in some kid's arm.
Daryl looked up at Nick's face, but the stranger wouldn't meet his eye. "You can stop the act," he said and flicked the baseball cap off of Nick's head with the tip of his fingers. "Took one look at you an' knew you was a girl. Who you trynna fool?"
Nick gingerly picked up her cap from where it fell the table and held it tightly in her hand. "Nobody I don't guess," she said and finally looked at the man.
"Why you doin' that anyway?" he asked, trying to keep up a conversation as he began to thread the needle through her flesh. She bit her lip and closed her eyes tight until the tip reemerged from her arm.
"The world's gone to hell," she finally said. Her voice was quiet and tense as she spoke. "It ain't safe bein' a woman out there anymore. Best that people don't know."
The man gave a noncommittal grunt in response and pushed the needle back through Nick's arm. She gritted her teeth in response. "What you doin' out in the woods?" Daryl asked and pulled the needle through.
"Safest place to be." She stopped and pursed her lips together, lest a sound of pain leave her mouth. Daryl brought the needle back out and she exhaled. "Less people," she sighed. "Less Johns."
"Johns?"
"The - the dead things. No names, no lives. John Does."
"Huh, makes more sense then 'geeks,' I guess," he said, but she didn't respond. He was only halfway done with stitching her up, and he needed to keep her mind off of the pain. "Uh - yer name is uh, Nick, right?" Daryl continued.
"Nichole," she told him, grimacing. "I'm sorry, but can we not talk? I'd rather just get this over with."
Daryl raised his eyebrows and put the needle back through her skin. "Fine by me."