Disclaimer: I do not own TWD, the tv show, or the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
AN: Nine Lives Challenge prompt: "Both woke up in the middle of nowhere together with no memory of who they are or why they're there. From ID cards/licenses, they figure out their names but that's it. They have to work together to remember what happened and get back to civilization."
*Title taken from the Katy Perry song, "Waking Up in Vegas."
Her throat felt like sandpaper. Dry, dusty, parched. Her eyes were crusted shut and trying to open them felt like bench-pressing twice her weight. Her hand fluttered jerkily to her face, and she shielded her eyes against the fiery light trying to pierce her eyelids, as she managed to blink her eyes open and stare blearily in front of her. She could just make out the fuzzy edges of everything. Brown bleeding into tan, blurring into beige. Nothing was defined. Her head felt like it was wrapped in bubble wrap, cotton in her ears. Just the thumping of her blood pounding in her skull, and the stinging pain shooting through the side of her neck where she was cramped up against...a car door?
A gravelly cough breached the haze surrounding her and she gingerly turned her head toward the direction of the sound. A darkened, blurry shape slowly came into focus in front of her as she blinked her eyes, and rubbed the grainy substance from the corners, fingers coming away blackened from...what she was assuming was makeup?
"Urrrrghhh...," the moaning from the blurry shape bludgeoned into her eardrums and she groaned to herself.
"Agggggghhhhh," she shifted her legs so she was stretching her limbs and she felt the blood rush into her extremities, bringing with it the sharp pins and needles feeling she hated.
She fumbled for the door handle, trying to leverage herself up in the seat so she could see where she was, when the noise from the seat beside her caught her attention again. She pressed her hand to her forehead, covering her eyes to block out the glare, trying to lessen the pain of the sun's reflection ricocheting off every gleaming metal surface.
"What the fuuuuuck?" The shape grumbled in a heavy voice, like gravel and dirt cascading down the side of a mountain.
She felt movement on the seat next to her and finally the shape took the form of man, stretching out from his hunched over position.
"Shhhhh!," she whispered harshly in as forceful a voice as her head would allow. "Not so loud."
She saw him startle just out the side of her vision, cry out with the movement, and then gingerly recline his head on the back of the car seat.
"Who are you?" His voice rumbled softly through the hot, arid space between them as his foot shot out and kicked something, a paper rustling noise crackling up from the floorboard.
Her brain scrambled, like a mouse chasing a piece of cheese in a maze, trying to form sentences, words. Hell, even a coherent thought would be nice right about now, she thought to herself.
"I...I'm...," she couldn't place her finger on it, but something was off. Like a big, fuzzy block of static clouding all of her memories. Frustrated, she closed her eyes, putting every last bit of energy she had in recalling something as simple as her name. Her forehead wrinkled, deep in thought, and squinting from the headache behind her eyes, she finally huffed.
"I don't know." She rested her head back against headrest, the mental output exhausting her. "Who are you?"
The car was silent for moments, not a whisper of a sound before, "Not quite sure at th' moment," he ground out in a tight voice.
"Great," she responded, sarcasm seeping through her voice.
She raised her head up once more and cracked her eyes open, this time able to take in more than a blink of her surroundings. She was in the back seat of a car, an older model she guessed, since there were no seat belts in the back seat, and the interior was dated. She looked out of the window and saw desert stretching for miles and miles against the backdrop of a city lit bright enough to see even in the middle of the day.
"Where are we?" She wondered out loud, as she looked over the sandy expanse before her.
"Shit, you think I know where we are when I can't even remember my own damn name?"
She flinched, not having expected an answer to the question. His terse answer rubbed her the wrong way, given that her head was pounding, she was in a car with a stranger, she didn't know where she was, and she didn't know who she was at the moment.
"I wasn't expecting you to know anything," she replied icily.
She reached out and opened her door, allowing the dusty breeze to whip through the car, stirring up the hot air but not really cooling anything down. It was that air on her legs that made her look down and notice her attire.
Or lack thereof.
She was clothed. If you could call it that.
The scarlet dress barely reached her thighs and was garishly covered with red sequins and glitter, which had rubbed off of the material and onto her skin. The spaghetti straps holding the dress on her petite frame were actually drooping off her shoulders, and she realized she wasn't wearing a bra. Her legs were bare and so were her feet, although a pair of red heels, matching her dress and covered in glitter or crystals or something, were in the floorboard next her, partially buried by a shopping bag of some sort.
She felt naked...she didn't like so much of her skin being uncovered. She felt exposed...vulnerable.
She moved her hand to tug at her skirt, trying to adjust the material to cover her legs more, when she noticed a large ring on her left ring finger. A man's ring.
She turned her hand over and inspected what looked like dental floss wrapped around the band to hold it in place on her finger. It was a class ring. The kind you get in high school. She didn't remember it, but that didn't surprise her since she couldn't remember anything at the moment. It was silver...or platinum...titanium? She wasn't sure of the metal but it had a bow and arrow engraved on one side with "ARCHERY," scripted above it, and what she assumed was a school mascot on the other side. In the center was a deep, blue sapphire surrounded by the lettering "GEORGIA-WALKER COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL."
She went to work pulling it off of her finger, not paying any attention to the man next to her. She flipped it around and sure enough, on the inside of the band was the name Daryl M. Dixon.
"Daryl…," She murmured quietly, wondering at the name and ring and how it managed to appear on her ring finger.
"Yeah?" Came the response, before his head snapped to look at her. "That's my name," he exclaimed. Realization brightened his eyes but then suspicion quickly clouded them. "How'd you know my name?" His eyes narrowed as he studied her, finally coming to rest on the ring in her hand, memories sparking, "And how the hell did you get my ring?"
"I don't know," she answered harshly. "You think I know anything, given I don't know my name!" Bitterness heavy in her voice as she threw his words back at him.
He held out his hand for the ring and she tossed it to him. Then she looked around for a purse, a wallet, something that had some form of identification or location on it, noticing the keys were in the ignition. Her foot kicked the shopping bag in the process, as she tried to get out of the car to search the front seat. A white piece of paper fluttered out onto the floor, and he leaned down to pick it up. It was a receipt to a high end clothing boutique, showing the purchases of a suit, dress, and holy shit!
"Who in the hell spends four grand on a pair of shoes!" Daryl yelled, causing his head to start pounding again.
She startled at his yell, hitting her head against the dashboard, and popped up from the front seat of the car.
"What?" She leaned into the back seat and took the receipt, glancing over the information."Well, first of all, they're Louboutin's," she said, as if that should tell him something.
"Yeah, so?"
"Second, more importantly, this has the address of the store. Do you have a wallet on you?"
He patted his pants pockets and checked the jacket next to him in the seat, coming up empty.
"Fuck! No I don't. Shit, why don't I have my wallet?" He looked accusingly at her and she glared right back at him.
"I. Don't. Know." She was tired of his attitude. "But I don't have a purse either, or a phone, so this receipt is our best chance to figure out what the hell happened and where our belongings are. There's an address to the store. We had to have a wallet or something to pay for all this stuff," she gestured to her dress and shoes. "We should go and see if we left them there."
He groaned and opened the door to get out and move to the driver's seat, his limbs and joints popping and cracking as he stretched.
"'M gettin too old for this shit," he mumbled, and she snorted.
"Just how old are you?"
"Old enough to know better," he smarted off, and then settled behind the steering wheel. "Could use a damn cigarette."
"Ugh, that's disgusting." She wrinkled her nose, staring out the window as he started the car.
"Where to, Miss Daisy?" He popped off, and she glared at him.
"Head towards that city over there, and don't call me that," she looked back down at the receipt, memorizing the address of the store.
"Sounds fittin' if I'm gonna be driving your ass around all day," he chuckled before asking, "So, what city is that?"
She actually growled at him, which made him laugh even more.
"It's Vegas."
"How much further? I'm dying of thirst." Carol bit out as they traveled down the dusty highway, hot air swirling in the windows, and around their bodies, covering her skin in a thin, grainy layer of sand and dirt.
"I don't have a clue. Have to stop up here at this gas station and ask for directions. Hand me that receipt."
"Wow, a man willing to stop and ask for directions? Has the world ended? Is this the apocalypse?"
"Lady, you got a real attitude. I don't know what your problem is."
"My problem? Well, let's see. I'm hungover, hot, thirsty, and, oh yeah, there's the tiny matter of not knowing who I am, and how I ended up here with a complete stranger and no purse, no phone, and no money!" She exclaimed, her hands gesturing wildly in the air.
"Calm down, alright. Check the console and the glove compartment, see if there's any change or somethin' in there." He spoke in a much calmer, somewhat soothing tone, not wanting to deal with a hysterical woman, in addition to the rest of their problems.
She started digging around the car, going through compartments and digging in the seats and under them, managing to come up with three dollars and fifty-seven cents. He pulled out a couple of singles he had wadded up in his pocket and handed them to her as he swung the car into the gas station, tires crunching over gravel and broken asphalt.
"Go getcha something to eat and drink, while I find out how to get back to civilization."
He got out of the car and entered the store, the bell ringing over the door as he made his way to the counter. She entered right behind him, heading straight to the coolers in the back, surprised she didn't break her ankles in the heels she had on, though she did wobble a few times, her dizziness getting the better of her.
She picked out a bottle of water, then glanced down at the money in her hand before looking back at Daryl. Sighing at the prickle of conscience, she placed it back in the cooler and grabbed a much larger bottle. She walked down the aisle not feeling up to eating much, but knowing she needed something to settle her stomach, she grabbed a small bag of pretzels and finally a small two-dose package of Tylenol. She paid quickly for her items using the majority of the money and met Daryl back at the car.
Settling in as he started the car, she ripped open the packet of pain reliever and downed it with a gulp of the fresh, cold water. She opened the bag of pretzels and started munching on one while taking the other packet and handing it over to Daryl along with the water.
"Wasn't much money so I figured we could share," she offered quietly when he looked down at her hand and then back up to examine her face. She avoided meeting his eyes but held her hand out until he grasped the items from her.
"You didn't have to do that, but thanks," he said sincerely, a note of surprise in his voice.
She nodded but didn't say anything else while he followed the directions scribbled on the back of the receipt, tires eating up the highway once more, bringing them ever closer to some answers...hopefully.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Dixon, but we have no wallet or purse belonging to you or Mrs. Dixon." The polished gentleman in the suit and tie looked distressed, wringing his hands as he delivered the upsetting news. "Last night when you-,"
"Wait, what? Mrs. Dixon?"
"Oh yes, I'm sorry, you wanted me to call you Carol. My apologies." The man nodded his head slightly at Carol but turned his attention swiftly back to the rugged man in front of him.
Daryl looked over at her, watching her reaction at the discovery that her name was Carol. The name struck a chord within her, reverberating and clearing some of the cobwebs from her memories. She was Carol. Carol Di-. No, that wasn't right. It was…well it was not Dixon. She was sure.
"No, you said Carol Dixon. That's not my name." She stared questioningly at the gentleman who wore a fancy gold plated name plaque that stated "Mr. Horvath."
"Ah yes, but you were married last night, no?" He glanced between the two of them quizzically. "I mean, that is what you told me last night. It is why you purchased the fine attire you are wearing. You were going to be married at a nice little chapel, and wanted to look your best. Is that...did something happen? Did you not make it to the wedding?"
Carol felt her stomach drop and the floor felt as if it was bucking beneath her. Married? She stumbled back a bit and Daryl's arm went quickly behind her to steady her, helping her over to a chaise lounge to sit down.
"Married?!" Carol squeaked, her eyes focused on Daryl, willing him with her mind to tell her this was some huge prank. A joke. She looked about the shop for hidden camera crews waiting to pop out and yell 'Surprise!'
"I'm terribly sorry if this is distressing news, madam. I was only relaying that which I thought was known. If your…," he cast a side glance at Daryl, "judgement was compromised, that may explain why you do not remember." Daryl bristled at the insinuation, but kept his cool.
"Look man, neither one of us remember much about last night for whatever reason. We don't have any of our stuff either. We're just trying to backtrace our steps to figure what happened and what's going on, and where our phones and wallets are. If you have any information that'd be real helpful. If not, we need to get goin.'" Daryl kept his arm around Carol's waist, supporting her as she seemed to be in a semi state of shock, and waited expectantly for the man to decide whether or not he was going to help them.
"Mr. Dixon, unfortunately there isn't much I can do in this situation. I was the one to help with your purchases last evening, and you paid in cash. There are no credit card receipts or information to help in that manner. As I have already informed you, we do not have your belongings."
"Cash?" Daryl's eyes bugged out, remembering the four thousand dollars spent on shoes.
"Yessir."
"I spent four thousand dollars on a pair of high heels?" Daryl was incredulous. There was no way.
"You were actually the one who picked them out, sir. Quite insistent that the lady have the shoes, sir. Very adamant. You paid for the shoes, her dress, as well as your own suit. Spared no expense."
Daryl just sat there, stunned. Four thousand dollars on shoes. He paid four grand for shoes. In cash. Where did he get over four grand in cash to pay for this stuff? While he was stuck trying to think why in the world he'd want to pick out high heels for the woman next to him, Carol was slowly coming back around to reality and trying to plot their next step forward.
"You said we were planning to go to a chapel. Did we happen to say which one? Do you remember a name?" The soft timbre of Carol's voice sweeping into the silence between the three of them registered in Daryl's brain, and he tore his attention from the money to what she was saying.
"Actually, yes, I do recall you mentioning The Little White Wedding Chapel. You were in such a hurry to get there…," Dale trailed off wistfully.