I hadn't realized it before, but Georgia was so freaking hot. Especially when it was summer and you didn't have air conditioning because you're car broke down and you were stuck on the side of the road.

So.

Freaking.

Hot.

I was road tripping with some friends, and we were trying to make it to Florida- my friends wanted to ultimately make it to Miami, but I was pretty sure they'd be tired of driving by Orlando- when, of course, something under the hood popped and steam started coming out. Isn't that how it always happens?

It wasn't my car, so I wasn't overly concerned about damages. I was concerned with my deodorant choice, though. Not doing a super job on the antiperspirant front... then again, I doubt they had it tested in the Georgian summer.

Well, the friends I was with decided to walk to the gas station we had passed a few miles back. I, like a true friend, opted to stay with the vehicle, just in case. And when I say "opted," I of course mean that they volunteered me. "Kat, out of the three of us, you definitely look most likely to have, like, a knife in your purse or something."

Thanks, guys. I still don't know what that means, but... thanks.

They hadn't been gone long, and I was sweating like five hogs wondering if we still had waters in the cooler, when I heard a potentially terrifying sound: wheels on gravel. I looked over to see a massive pick-up pulling behind our broken down vehicle. It wasn't shiny and new. I could see some rust around the exhaust, some chips in the paint. But it was still intimidating.

Okay, Kathleen. Look threatening. Just. Feel like you could beat up a potential rapist. Believe in yourself.

I really wasn't good at giving myself pep talks. I'd say it's the thought that counts, but I don't know if that applies to thinking to yourself... I mean, I guess it could? Weird...

"Kat!"

Oh. I guess they made it to the gas station. There, and back again, apparently.

My friends, Sarah and Megan, were coming out of the truck walking toward me, a man with them. He was tall and heavily built, but in a muscular way. Scruff dusted his chin, but his head- what I could see of it under the ball cap- looked bald. Cobalt eyes squinted at me, even under the shade of the hat's bill.

"Well, howdy," he said, not even subtle about giving me a once over. I grimaced in distaste. Up close, he kinda resembled a really young version of my grandfather- who I always thought was very handsome. But the leer forming on his face ruined any attractiveness he might have had.

But I guess my friends didn't agree with me. They definitely looked like they were fans.

"Kat, this is Merle. He's gonna tow our car to the garage he works at and take a look at it. Isn't that nice?"

Oh yeah. Sarah definitely thought he was attractive.

I looked back at Merle, then back at his truck, only now noticing the cable hook-up at the back. He was still grinning at me as he waved a hand. "That's me. Merle."

"Kathleen," was my short reply. Now quit looking at me. He only smirked.

"Do you need anything from the car?" Megan asked. "If now, we should go now. I'd like to be on the road again by tonight."

"Oh, I dunno if that's gonna happen, girly. Dunno what the problem is yet," Merle warned.

Megan looked disappointed. "Well, then let's go diagnose."

I grabbed my purse and followed them to the truck, thankful that I got the window seat.

Seven skeezy glances (and almost as many heavy insinuations) later, we were at the car place. Merle had clearly played up his position here, but Sarah and Megan didn't seem to mind. They followed him over to some office, and a few minutes later an actual mechanic came out to look at the car. Mike (the mechanic, according to his name tag) glanced at me curiously. I hadn't followed the others into the office. This time, I willingly opted to stay with the car.

"Your ride?" Mike asked.

"No. My friend's."

He nodded. "Well, I'll take a look and let you guys know."

His tone was a little dismissive. I guess he wasn't the only one who didn't want company right now. Taking the cue, I stopped leaning against the broken machine and decided to wander instead- anything that didn't involve sitting in that office with Merle and his new fans.

I loved my friends. I did. But honestly: there was only so much shameless flirting I could stomach in one day.

The garage I was currently meandering around was pretty big. Nice place, overall, at least according to my amateur eyes. There were several hydraulic lifts (I think that's what they're called?) for underbody work, hoses coming down from pipes in the ceiling, all the workers plugging away steadily. At least the car was in safe hands, even if my friends weren't.

But I shouldn't judge. I mean. We just met Merle. He could be a real sweetheart. Maybe. I mean. It was possible. In, like, another universe or something.

Yeah...

My eyes suddenly landed on a motorcycle. It didn't look like anybody was working on it. Nobody was nearby at all, really. It was just sitting there... lonely... I sighed, somewhat pathetically. I'd always had a thing for motorcycles. Cliche, I know. Every girl wants a bad boy. And motorcycles fit so well with that deep, dark desire for the rebel. Double cliche. But I couldn't help it. If some guy (probably hot, because hey-he's riding a motorcycle) was all "Hop on, Honey," I would be all about that mess. Not even kidding.

I began to walk around it, wanting to see it from every angle, when I suddenly realized motorcycles could be dangerous in another kind of way. They could be distracting. As in: I was so distracted by the motorcycle that I didn't notice the pair of legs sticking out from under the truck that was next to the motorcycle. As in: I didn't see the legs and I walked right into them and promptly fell on my ass.

Beyond my own grunt of pain, I heard a loud curse and a bang, followed quickly by the legs moving out from under the car to reveal a whole person. Said person immediately grabbed his leg and rubbed at the spot where I had basically kicked his shin in my mad attempt to catch my balance (which, clearly, failed). Then he looked up. At me. Oh... oops.

The scowl on his face was actually kind of impressive. If he were clean, it probably wouldn't have been as intimidating. But his face was pretty gross, covered in dirt and some grease and oil. His hair had a different kind of grease, flattened back to his scalp. He wasn't wearing a jumpsuit like Mike, though, so I wondered if he worked here or if he was just working on his own car...?

"What the hell is wrong with you, lady?" he suddenly asked, his voice as rough as his appearance, accent thick.

I bristled at his tone. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, whatever. Go find yer husband or somethin'."

After that gem, he attempted to lie back down and roll under the car again. I had other plans.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" he grunted, just before his face disappeared below the vehicle.

Then I realized I didn't really have anything to say. I wast just offended. Damn. "I'm not married," was my huffy response.

"Whadya want me t'do? Congratulate ya?"

I glared at him, but he couldn't see. "No."

"Then what?"

"Look, I'm sorry I hit you, but it was an accident. You don't have to be an ass about it."

"An ass?" he rolled back out to see her, glare in full effect, but a cruel smirk twisting into the smudge mark on his cheek. "Listen, lady, I think congratulations are in order. Let me congratulate all the guys who have successfully avoided marryin' you."

I gasped and could only watch as he rolled his eyes and went back under the car.

Well, I never... what a dick. Huffing to myself- and finally getting up off the ground- I considered kicking him again, just to be spiteful. But after that supremely pleasant encounter, a repeat was not at the top of my priority list. Getting out of here, however, most certainly was. I quickly retraced my steps and found my friends again, leaving the office and talking to Merle.

Turns out our car situation would take "at least until the morning- but hey, how about we go get some drinks and not worry about it? I know a little motel where you girls can hole up for the night. Let's get you settled in, and then maybe go enjoy some local specialties?"

The way he said it, I'm pretty sure Merle was including himself as a local specialty. Gross. But, of course, Sarah and Megan wanted to go.

Awesome.

So now we're sharing this crummy motel room, getting ready to go out. Sarah and Megan are much more enthusiastic than I am, but they don't seem to mind my lackluster attitude. I've never really been able to keep up with them in the energy department. I always stayed in to study when they went out. I honestly don't even know how I ended up on this road trip. It had sounded like such a good idea at the time... But now? Now I just wanted to go back to my dorm room and sleep and watch tv all day. Lazy? Yes. Satisfying? Also yessss.

I finished getting ready almost ten minutes ago: a dark green sheer tank over a black cami; dark wash skinnies, black sandals; minimal jewelry and make-up. No big deal, right? Just a few drinks at a bar, in some back town of Georgia, with some guy we barely knew? I thought I was dressed pretty appropriately for that.

But watching my friends get ready, I was starting to feel a little self-conscious. They definitely looked nicer than I did, with their shiny tops and cutesy heels and matching clutches. As they finished and we headed out the door, I tried to convince myself it was fine- I mean, they didn't mention anything, so it shouldn't be an issue, right? Right...

Well, too late now.

The bar was literally right down the road. It was an older place, clearly having been there since the start of the town. There were photos of friends and family on the walls, hunting trophies, blue ribbons, quotes... It was actually kind of cool, in a "man, I always wanted to live in an old small town" kind of way. And I did often have that desire- it was nestled deep, right next to the rebellious motorcycle desire- so it worked out quite nicely.

Merle was already there, talking to some people at the bar. He immediately flagged us down.

"Ladies! Welcome, glad you could make it." My friends said something polite in response. I tried to smile, but it was definitely forced. "Anybody want drinks? They're on me." More polite responses. "Excellent. Listen, I invited my little brother to join us, I hope ya don't mind. He ain't here yet, but when he shows, I'll introduce ya." The girls looked pretty excited about that. They were probably wondering if he was as attractive-gross- as Merle. For my part, I was more focused on the booze; and Merle, thankfully, noticed. "Now- those drinks. What'll it be?"

So that's how the evening started. A round of beer, moving to a booth, me sitting there watching my friends flirt with Merle. They'd try to bring me into the conversation- hell, even Merle had- but I really wasn't interested, so they gave up. That might have had something to with the fact that, every time I spoke, Merle would take the opportunity to glance at my chest. Maybe I was being paranoid because I was in a bad mood; but still. It sucked.

Eventually, I excused myself from the table made my way back to the bar. I ordered another beer, and wondered if my classmate back at school would still be awake. Maybe she could forward me some work so I could at least be productive tonight... heading back to the room early wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? Doing homework on spring break? Just a little pathetic? I could handle just a little...

My beer had arrived and I was sipping it as I wondered this. Then I heard a small crash beside me. Apparently the guy two seats over had had a few too many and had dropped his glass, sending shards all over the floor- shards that he was about to step on.

I quickly jumped off my stool and over to his. He was stumbling, so I held onto his arm. "Hey there, buddy."

"Who're-you?" he slurred thickly.

"Wanna watch out for those glass shards? They're gonna hurt..."

"Wha? Who put those there?"

"No clue." Looking down and seeing the places of danger, he let me lead him to the other side of my stool, away from the glass.

"There ya go. You're safe now."

He nodded sluggishly and leaned against the bar. I turned back to the broken glass and saw the bartender attempting to sweep up some of the shards.

"Here, let me help," I offered, taking an extra rag off the counter to soak up the beer.

"Thanks, but you don't have to. Bobby's a regular. This happens every once in awhile."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, smiling kindly. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

Well, there goes my random act of kindness. I turned back to the bar- more importantly, back to my drink- and noticed that the drunk guy, Bobby, had moved on, further down the bar. Well, fine. You're welcome. Didn't want company anyways. Picking up my beer, I made my way back over to the table with Merle and Megan and Sarah... and somebody else.

"Oh, Kat, there you are!" Sarah gushed, a little tipsy. "This is Merle's brother, Daryl Dixon. Daryl, this is our friend, Kathleen."

He turned to face me as I slid into the booth; and he immediately scowled. Geez. What did I do to him?

"You," he said suddenly. When he spoke, I remembered. The guy from the garage.

"You!" I gasped out, right after.

I almost didn't recognize him outside of the oil and dirt. And damn. He cleaned up nicely. His hair looked lighter without all the grease in it- auburn, different shades mixed in from a lot of time spent in the sun. The cut was messy and fell around his tan face. Brows lighter than his hair hovered low (he was still kinda glaring at me) over cerulean eyes, the hard glint of anger making them look metallic. From there, his nose led to thin lips and light facial hair that framed his mouth and jaw, only just dusting up toward his cheekbones.

All in all, it would be much easier to say he was ruggedly handsome. Or hot. Or sexy. Any, or all, of those things.

"You two know each other?" Merle asked, laughing.

"We don't," he said shortly. His attitude wasn't nearly as attractive as his face.

"We just... bumped into each other earlier."

He snorted. "You bumped into me."

I rolled my eyes. "Ass." I wasn't really mad, but he was just so... ugh! What a brat.

"I'm not the ass here."

"Well you're the only one I see."

"Only because there ain't no mirrors around."

I huffed. I knew I was scowling at him now, too. I wanted to say something back; but I was distracted by the laughter around us.

"Well, damn. If I'dda known you two woulda hit it off so well, I woulda introduced ya sooner," Merle hooted.

Both of us remained silent, still glaring at each other across the table. Merle, choosing to ignore us, went back to his conversation with Sarah and Megan. Daryl kept glaring, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer, making his arm muscles flex. I tried not to stare. But hey. I was only human. And those arms belonged on a statue.

"I'm th'one who got kicked. Why're you still mad?"

"I'm not."

"If you say so, lady." He stood from the table suddenly, moving toward the bar. "Maybe you should get zen."

"That would solve all my problems, huh?" I asked sarcastically.

I wasn't expecting his sudden smirk as he glanced back at me. Damnit. That was an attractive smirk. On an attractive face. "Well, it'd prob'ly help ya stop bein' such a bitch," he said before taking another swig of his beer.

My glare followed his retreating back. What a jerk! Who did he think he was? Daryl Dixon was nothing more than an ass. I don't care if my friends had the hots for his brother.

Finally deciding to stop glaring, I took a long drink of my own beer. If I was going to get through this, I'd definitely be needing alcohol.

Twenty minutes later and I wasn't feeling well at all. I mean, I was but I wasn't. That doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. I definitely felt good. Like, in a drunk way. Like, who gives a shit, ya know? But I also felt so bad. Like, how did this happen? Two beers? Maybe I was sick. Had I eaten anything earlier? Geez, it was hot in here. I needed... I needed water. And more beer. And maybe a bed. Or just the floor. Yeah, the floor sounded great...

"Damn, girlie, you alright?" Merle asked. "You ain't lookin' so good." He definitely didn't sound concerned. Neither did my so-called friends, who only laughed.

I groaned and rested my head on the table. What the hell was going on. I wasn't a lightweight. I'd only had two beers.

"Hey," I heard then, from Daryl. When had he gotten back? I grunted but didn't move. "Hey," he repeated, louder.

"What?"

"Where'd ya get that beer?"

This piqued my curiosity enough to move, lifting my head to look at him across the table. For the first time since meeting him, garage included, he wasn't glaring at me. Instead he was looking intently into my eyes, like he was trying to find something. Mmm. He had nice eyes.

"What?"

"The beer. You ordered it?"

"Yeah, at the bar. Why?"

Now that I was looking at him again, I was so tempted to ogle. Geez louise. He was attractive. Like. Really attractive. Even if he was an ass.

"Yer eyes are blown." I frowned at that. My eyes were fine...? "Somebody prob'ly tried to drug you." He said it so bluntly. Like, 'Hey, it's sunny out today. I need to mow the lawn. You probably got drugged.'

Well that woke me up. I pushed the now-empty bottle away from me, toward him. "What? What... what do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes, like I was being an idiot or something. Which I thought just wasn't fair. He basically just told me I was drugged. I wasn't in my right mind. I could be an idiot if I wanted to be.

"I mean drugs. Geez. Aren't you from th' city or somethin'?"

I watched as he took my bottle and sniffed it.

"Can you smell drugs? Or is that just dogs?"

I knew it was stupid as it was leaving my mouth; but I couldn't stop it. Yeah. Drugs seemed about right. He merely quirked a brow and put the bottle back down.

"How do I know you didn't put it in there?" I asked as the thought occurred to me. He instantly tensed up, the glare returning, and when he spoke, his accent was more pronounced.

"Only scumfucks drug women. If I wanted t'sleep with ya, I wouldn't need or want 'em."

If he wanted? He so wanted. Who wouldn't want? Presumptuous ass. Who says I'd even sleep with him? How rude. I wanted to say something rude back, but still flirty, when I noticed something. We were alone. Sarah and Megan were with Merle by the door. I almost felt the sad expression take over my face, replacing the frown I had when talking to Daryl.

"They're leaving me...?"

Daryl looked over. "Damnit, Merle..." Then he, too, left, hurrying to his brother. I watched from the booth as the two exchanged words. A moment later, Daryl returned, looking pissed.

"Come on," was all he said, grabbing my arm and leading me away.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm takin' you back to your room so you can sleep."

"Sleep? Oh that sounds so good..."

He held onto my arm as we made our way to the door. Merle and the girls were already gone.

"My friends are probably gonna sleep with your brother," I blurted out, then immediately covered my mouth with both hands. Oops. This caused Daryl's hold on my to drop. He turned and looked back at me.

"Well, Merle'll love that. Come on." He grabbed my wrist again.

"Ew. Gross. No offense, but your brother is gross." I heard him snort. "It's true. Sorry."

"Just shut up, would ya?"

I nodded. He didn't see. We were outside now. Then a new voice joined us.

"Daryl! Where ya runnin' off to, buddy? You barely said hello!"

We both turned. It was the man from earlier, the drunk one with the broken glass... Robby? Bobby?

"Hey, Bobby." Yes, I was right! "Sorry, gotta take care of somethin'."

"Hey... weren't you drunk earlier?" I asked, pointing a finger at Bobby. He had been waaaasted. How did he calm down so fast?

He only laughed. "Weren't you sober earlier?"

I groaned. "Yes. I want to be sober again."

"Daryl, why don't you go get her some water? I'm sure she needs it."

The guy reached for my other arm. He was looking at me funny. Like... I dunno. My head was starting to hurt. But I did know I didn't like it. Thankfully, Daryl kept ahold of my other arm. I glanced back at his face. He was still glaring, but this time at Bobby. It wasn't nearly as scary when it wasn't directed at me. Actually, it was kinda hot. He looked so dangerous. Rebellious, even... I wondered if he had a motorcycle.

"What she needs is sleep, Bob," he said, distracting me from my quickly declining thoughts.

"Where're you gonna take her?"

Suddenly, Daryl changed. He pulled me a little closer to him, and a little further from Bobby. "Don't worry about it."

Mmmm, Daryl was warm. I mean, his hand had already been warm on my wrist; but being close to his body... hot. Hot hot hot. Hmm... Wait, what had they just said? Daryl looked really mad all of the sudden.

"Well, if you're so worried maybe ya shouldn't've drugged her, huh?"

I gasped, looking back at Bobby. "You! You did this? That's not nice."

The man blanched. "I didn't..."

"Liar," Daryl ground out.

"You only pretended to be drunk. Not nice at all."

"Listen, I don't want trouble."

"Leave."

Daryl's voice had gotten lower, like gravel scraping through honey. Which didn't make any sense. But his voice was so rich but still rough and... I'm on drugs. Screw good imagery.

We both watched Bobby leave, and when we turned to walk back to the motel, Daryl's hold was a little more gentle.

Now back in the motel room (thankfully, I had been carrying one of the two keys), Daryl practically through me onto the bed. If I was sober, I would have been upset. But as it was, I simply snuggled into a pillow and started giggling.

"My hero!" I sang. He blanched, but hid it behind my bag, where he was trying to find my phone. "My prince charming!" I continued. The scowl started to resurface on his face. "Daryl... Dear Daryl..." More giggles. Something was seriously wrong with me.

"Do you have a nickname?"

"No," he answered, scrolling through my contacts. "What are your friends' names?"

"Sarah T. Megan G."

He nodded and very slowly hit buttons. Looked like he wasn't around technology much.

"You should have a nickname," I carried on. "Like... 'Dare Me' Dixon... or 'Do Me' Daryl..." I couldn't stop laughing at that one, especially when I saw how uncomfortable Daryl was. He had tried one number. I guess nobody answered, and now he was trying again. Nothing.

"Maybe... maybe something like Arms McGee?" Good Lord, what was I even saying? Could he even understand me? Probably not.

"Shut up," he muttered. Okay, maybe he did.

"Seriously! Have you seen your arms?" They were quite nice. He should know that they were being appreciated.

Suddenly, he was moving again. He came back with a glass of water. "Drink this."

Obliging him, I did feel better. I still couldn't control my mouth, though. I didn't have to worry about it much longer, though.

"Sleep," he said. I was already halfway there. I heard him mumbling to himself... something about Merle talking him into this, about getting the

'dumb bitch' to bed... how rude... I should tell him how rude he's being... But first... sleep...

When I woke up in the morning, everything hurt. I've never felt so bad after drinking. NEVER. The full glass of water by my bed helped; but my temples still pounded and I knew I hadn't showered, which somehow made it even worse. What time was it? Were Sarah and Megan back? I could barely see the clock... 7am? No... that wasn't a seven... It was a one. 1pm?!

The shock of how late I'd slept in jolted me awake. I checked my phone: no messages. The room looked a little messy, like someone had been there, but shit- I didn't remember anything from last night, I could've moved that stuff around. But where had the water come from? Jumping out of bed, I started to panic, cursing my drinking and my friends and Merle and this whole situation.

In the middle of me trying to calm my own breathing, the door opened. Megan and Sarah both came in, laughing, carrying coffee.

"Oh, you're up! Thank God! Kat, we were so worried!" Megan gushed.

"What? I was worried about you!"

"Why?"

"Where have you been?"

"We went to get the car and some breakfast. There's a bagel in that bag for you."

"What...?"

"Kat," Sarah sat next to me, put a hand on my shoulder. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"We were at the bar... and then I got some beer... and that dick from the garage was there... and then I woke up here...?"

Megan laughed. "That dick from the bar saved you."

"What?"

"Kat, you were drugged last night."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Some guy at the bar that you helped out" - that sounded vaguely familiar- "slipped you a pill. We didn't know. We left with Merle right before you found out, I guess. But Daryl helped you out. He got you back here and called us to let us know where you were and what had happened."

I was having trouble breathing. "He... he saved me?"

"Yeah. I don't know why you don't like him, but he really... I mean... think of what could have happened."

"Yeah... yeah..."

All I could think about was his face. I remember admiring him before I totally lost it. The attractive but rude mechanic guy with the arms. He had saved me?

"He asked about you, too."

"What?" How many times had I asked that question in the past five minutes?

"Yeah. He was there with Merle working on their truck when we went to get the car. He asked if you'd woken up yet, how you were doing. We

told him you were still sleeping. He's the one who told us to get you a bagel, to help settle your stomach."

Who was this guy?

"He also said we should tell you to be more zen? I dunno what he meant."

I rolled my eyes. "Huh."

"He didn't look very zen," Megan scoffed. Instead of saying 'what?' again, I just looked at her. "His knuckles were all bruised. After we told Merle what happened, he just said that Daryl had taken care of it. But it sounded like he meant more than getting you back to the motel."

"You think he beat that guy up?" Seriously. Who was this guy? Not a knight in shining armor. He may have saved me, but he was still rude.

Maybe a redneck in sleeveless flannel who just spotlighted as a a hero...

She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. But hey- it's over now. You're safe. How about you shower, and we can get on the road, huh? Florida, here we come!"

Her optimism was way to much for me in my current state. My head was still reeling. Not just from the drugs. But from Daryl. I'd been super harsh to the guy, and what had he done? Saved me. Well, wasn't I just a bitch. I guess he had been right...

Sighing, I did as my friends asked, quickly getting ready so we could leave. But as I was dressing, I resolved to make one stop before we left.

When we got to the garage, I immediately asked for Daryl.

He wasn't there. Neither was Merle.

Frustrated, I looked around, trying to figure out a Plan B.

"You can leave him a note, though? He's bound to be back later today or tomorrow. I'll make sure he gets it," said the guy I had first asked.

"That would be great! Do you have paper?"

He nodded and ripped a blank form off his notepad, flipping it over and handing it to me. "Just use the back of that. Here's a pen."

"Thank you so much!"

He nodded and walked away, leaving me to stare blankly at the yellow sheet. Now what? How do you thank someone for what he did?

I guess you just... do. Sighing, I put pen to paper.

My note ended up being short and sweet.

"Daryl-

I don't really remember much from last night. But my friends told me what happened, and what you did for me. If you hadn't been there... Well. You saved me from that. So it's best not to think about it, I guess. Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't really know what else to say. Or what else I can say, really. So thanks. Again. And sorry for being such a bitch.

- Kathleen

PS- I'll work on that zen thing."

The post script was a last-minute addition before I handed it back to the guy. He assured me Daryl would get it, but I was still a little bummed that I couldn't thank him myself. Then again, that might be awkward. A note was probably best.

Returning back to the car and my friends and, essentially, my life, I sighed to myself. The car ride was quiet, at first, all of us still recovering a little from the night before. I just picked at my bagel and looked out the window. But eventually, the awkwardness faded and the radio turned on and then we were all laughing and talking again, as if it had never happened.

After a couple of hours, we were much closer to Florida, and I was much closer to sleep. Deciding a nap was in order, I closed my eyes; and the first thing I saw, finally slipping into unconsciousness, was a pair of cerulean eyes looking back at me.

By the time we reached Orlando (I had been right about that, at least), I had remembered pretty much everything about the previous night; but I didn't want to tell them. It was embarrassing and terrifying and they didn't really need to hear it. So I kept it, and my memories of Daryl Dixon, to myself.

A/N: So this is a companion piece to my story "Fix You," specifically from chapter three, when Katheen talks about knowing Daryl from before the apocalypse. This is how they met- which isn't super pretty. When they met each other, they were both having crappy days. But here it is. When "Fix You" gets to the point of Daryl recalling this meeting, I'll probably add a chapter of the same events from his p.o.v. So yeah. Here it is. Check out "Fix You" and "Dry Fire" if you want some more Daryl/OC. :)