disclaimer: I own no part of the walking dead
PLEASE PLEASE READ!- Hi everyone! Thanks for taking an interest in my new story. So I have a few things to say about my character Emilia. First of all, I see the only realistic relationship Daryl could have is with someone who was either way more outgoing than him (Like my other OC Lyla is) so they would be the one to instigate everything, or just as emotionally inept as he is. So since I already have Lyla as the outgoing one, I thought I'd try to write Emilia as being just as socially awkward and emotionally unavailable as Daryl is. Also a note on her accent; I used the way JK Rowling wrote Fleur Delacour's french accent in Harry Potter, so all credit for it goes to her! Thanks!
Lori's head snapped up from the food she was preparing and she looked towards the door to the cellblock as Maggie came sprinting in. The younger woman looked at her as she passed the table she was sitting at.
"Is my dad still in the library?" Maggie shouted as she bounded up the stairs on her long legs, nearly slamming into Carol at the top.
"I think so," yelled back Lori in confusion, "Why? What's going on?"
But Maggie didn't answer as she had already passed through the doors to another section of the prison. Lori stared at Carol whose face bore a similar expression of bemusement. Carol descended the stairs quickly and came to stand next to the pregnant woman just as Glenn came careening in. He tried to turn towards the two women too quickly and his legs slid out from under him. Lori shrieked and Carol gasped as the chair nearest to Glenn toppled over upon impact with his body. He righted himself before either of the women could move and stood before them trying to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on Glenn?" asked Lori while shaking her dark-haired head in exasperation.
Glenn straightened and placed his hands on his still heaving stomach. Carol patted his sweaty shoulder.
"I'm-I'm not sure to be completely honest," he replied, "There was a girl in the yard and I think she's injured. Oh and I think Daryl knows her somehow."
At his last comment the expression on Carol's face hardened slightly and she pursed her thin lips.
"What do you mean Daryl knows her?" she asked a bit harshly.
Glenn just shrugged in response.
"I don't know but we need to get all of our medical stuff together like, right now," he said breathlessly before jogging into one of the cells.
The door to the cellblock burst open once more and a swiftly moving Daryl strode into the room with the small girl in his arms. A lost looking Rick was trailing behind him. The redneck moved quickly to one of the metal tables just as Glenn hurried out of the cell with one of the beat up, old mattresses in tow. He threw it on top of the table, receiving a nod of gratitude from Daryl, and moved away as the older man placed the girl on top of it with more gentleness than anyone had seen him display before. He then stepped back on shaky legs and began to pace back and forth, constantly throwing worried looks towards the girl that remained anonymous to everyone but him and Rick.
Carol and Glenn were already busily gathering things that might serve a purpose to Hershel when he arrived, so Lori focused on calming down the slightly hysterical pacing man. She shot a quick look to her husband but Rick was staring off into space.
"Rick!" she shouted softly, trying to catch his attention.
His head snapped towards her and she nodded towards Daryl before going over to him herself. She watched him pace for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, before she placed her hands on his shaking elbows to stop his movement. He flinched hard but was too caught up in whatever was going on with him to be embarrassed about it. The muscles in his arms were taught under Lori's hands and his eyes looked crazed.
"Daryl," she began in what she thought was her best calming voice, "Sit down. Now. Everything is going to be fine."
Daryl didn't respond but he let himself be gently guided to sit on a bench against the wall. Lori made sure it was still close to the table so he didn't lose sight of the girl. He raised a hand to gnaw on one of his thumbnails and Lori fought with herself not to admonish him for the habit. Instead she settled for gripping his shoulder with one hand tightly and placing her other hand on her bulging stomach. Surprisingly, Daryl let her keep the contact going as he watched Glenn and Carol made preparations around the girl. It didn't last long though, because less than a minute later Maggie burst back through the doorway on the second level with Beth, Carl, Hershel, and T-Dog behind her. Upon seeing them, Daryl shot out of his seat once more and stood beside the table with a hand planted extremely close to the girl's limp body. Lori didn't miss the look of agitation that shot across Carol's face even though she covered it up quickly.
Maggie jogged down the stairs with a bucket of water and washcloths in her hands and Beth followed her with Hershel's first-aid kit. Everyone waited with baited breath as T-Dog helped Hershel descend the stairs on his crutches and make his way over to the prone figure on the table. The tension and sense of urgency in the air around them was nearly palpable. When Hershel got to their small congregation he began hastily removing various medical items from his bag as he looked over the girl quickly.
"Alright," he began in a professional voice, leaving no room for argument, "We need to get all the dirt cleaned off this young lady so we can check her for bites and any other injuries. Maggie, start cleaning her skin off. There isn't much daylight left and I'd prefer to not have to check her over by flashlight. That would leave too much of a chance for me to miss something."
Maggie nodded at his order and began to carefully wash the grime and gore from the girl's skin.
"Now Daryl," started Hershel. But Daryl's jaw was clenched and his entire focus was on the girl next to him. Hershel tried again in a louder voice, "Daryl!"
The rough man looked up quickly at the vet with wide eyes. Hershel was shocked by the scared expression on the younger man's face but he recovered quickly and set his mind back to the task on hand.
"Maggie tells me that you might be familiar with this woman?" he prodded cautiously.
Daryl nodded, suddenly looking very shy and awkward. He coughed a few times before responding.
"Yeah," he mumbled around the nail he was chewing on, "Yeah you could say that."
The others looked confused but then Daryl reached a hand forward and gently pushed the shredded tank top up the girl's flat stomach a little. Right next to her prominent left hipbone was Daryl's name in black ink. The others, besides Rick, looked shocked to say the least; no one noticed Carol slipping away from the group and out of the cellblock with wet eyes.
"I see," stated Hershel as he pulled a pair of latex gloves on, "So is it safe to say that you were once romantically involved with this woman?"
The tips of Daryl's ears turned noticeably pink and he cleared his throat before nodding. His skin was losing color rapidly, a fact that Hershel noted, and his terrified gaze was still fixed on the girl. Something needed to be done before he passed out and Hershel was taking care of two unconscious individuals.
"Alright Daryl why don't you sit down son," he suggested in a firm tone, "I'm going to ask you some questions while Maggie finishes cleaning her up so I can get some background medical information. Anything could help."
Daryl hesitated and Rick took the opportunity to push him by his broad shoulders down onto the bench connected to the table. He didn't even muster up a glare to send at the police officer for it.
"Name?" prodded Hershel softly.
"Emilia St. Germain," responded Daryl quickly in a monotone voice devoid of emotion.
"Interesting name," the vet intoned, "How old is she? She looks very young."
"She got that a lot from people," replied Daryl in the same emotionless voice, "But she's 27."
"Any history of illness or disease? Even any past injuries?"
"No allergies or diseases or nothin'. Never really got sick when I knew her. She broke her collarbone a few years ago in a horse back ridin' accident and got a concussion last year when she rolled outta bed in the middle of the…"
He trailed off and his ears turned pink once more when he realized that his last comment implied they slept in the same bed. The others stifled their smiles.
"Does she have any children?"
Daryl shook his head.
"Has she ever been pregnant?" Daryl started to shake his head but then he stopped short and his face got even paler.
"Daryl?" prodded Hershel.
Daryl cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor, refusing to look at anyone.
"Once that I know of," he muttered, "But she miscarried before she even realized she was."
Hershel's lips stretched into a thin line and he nodded once. He started to ask another question but was cut off by Maggie's voice.
"Daddy…" she said in an anxious voice.
She was staring at Emilia's face, which she had just cleaned of dirt. Hershel quickly stood to get a better view of what she was looking at. Daryl stood as well with great apprehension. Now that Maggie had washed most of the dirt from Emilia's skin, the true extent of her condition was revealed. Her right eye was surrounded by a bruise that looked to be a few days old and was accompanied by a thin cut that circled around her temple and eyebrow. There were also bruises on her neck, bruises that were in the unmistakable form of fingers. Daryl grit his teeth in anger as his eyes traveled down her body and settled on an area on her upper thigh that was visible through a hole in Emilia's shorts. There was a large "x" carved into the flesh on her inner thigh. Daryl pushed away from the table violently after seeing her leg and began to pace once more with his large hands gripping at his hair in distress. The others were too horrified to move.
They all jumped when Daryl kicked the chair Glenn had knocked over before and sent it tumbling across the room with a grunt.
"Daryl!" Rick said sternly. The hunter looked towards him and Rick was instantly reminded of the angry, uncontrollable man that Daryl had been when they had first met.
"You need to calm down," he said somewhat meekly.
The look in Daryl's eyes was murderous as he strode towards Rick and straightened to his full height inches away from the cop. Rick had to try his hardest not to look scared or move away.
"Calm down!?" bellowed Daryl as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, "Ya want me to fuckin' calm down when some dirty fuck did that to her?"
Rick swallowed.
"Getting violent won't do anything to help Emilia right now," he said in the voice he normally used for talking to victims of crime, "When she wakes up we can formulate a plan about what to do but as of right now we have no information to go off of."
"Fuck that," replied Daryl with a shake of his head, "Y'all might not have anythin' to go off of but I do."
With that he grabbed his crossbow from the floor and shouldered it. He strode over to the courtyard door but was blocked by a determined looking Glenn.
"Where the hell are you going?" he asked incredulously with his arms spread wide.
"Goin' to follow her trail back to the bastard that touched her," Daryl growled aggressively as he tried to push past the smaller man.
"Daryl Dixon!" shouted Lori in a commanding voice that effectively stopped the redneck in his tracks, "Don't you dare leave right now. You can't let this poor girl wake up in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers. I'm sure she'd feel better if you were here and not running off to get yourself killed."
Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek as the internal debate he was having flashed across his features. After a few moments, his stature relaxed some and he walked dejectedly back to the table where Hershel was finishing up his examination of Emilia. Everyone looked immediately relieved and Daryl began his agitated pacing again.
"Her wounds appear to be superficial," said Hershel as Daryl passed the table again, "I can't find anything seriously wrong and there are no bites or scratches. She's probably just dehydrated and malnourished like the rest of us. When she wakes up we'll get some food and water into her and then she should be fine as far as I can tell."
The relief that spread through Daryl was almost visible to the others. He stopped pacing and pressed his back to the wall before sliding all the way down. His head found its way to rest on his pulled up knees as he sighed deeply.
"Why isn't she wearing shoes?" asked Maggie in a slightly mystified tone.
Since she was no longer needed, she also slumped to the ground a few feet away from Daryl's position. Glenn joined her and draped an arm over her shoulders.
"I'm guessing she left them in her hurry to get away from whoever did this to her," answered Hershel carefully, keeping one eye fixed on Daryl like he was concerned how he would react to the vet's statement.
Hershel's wariness was well placed, as Daryl twitched violently and tilted his head back against the wall. Maggie reached over and patted his shoulder sympathetically.
Now that the initial excitement had passed, Rick made the decision to attempt to restore some normality within their group.
"Alright, no need for all of us to be here," he announced in a commanding voice, "T-Dog and Carl, you two take watch. We don't want to be surprised if whoever Emilia was running from decided to follow her."
The two nodded in agreement and set off to the guard tower together. Once they were gone, Rick turned his attention once more to Daryl. He still looked utterly shell-shocked and sort of out of it, like he hadn't really come to terms with the fact that Emilia was there. He just emitted a sense of loss and confusion.
"Daryl," Rick said gently but firmly, "Do you know how she got here? I remember you saying she was in another country when everything went down, right?"
"I don' fuckin' know!" lamented Daryl weakly, "She should be in fuckin' France with her family. I have no idea how the hell she got here!"
He was quickly starting to become worked up again, as evidenced by the crack in his voice, and Rick needed to stop that from happening. Diverting the redneck's attention would prevent another bout of hysteria.
"France?" Rick inquired calmly, "Does her family live there?"
Daryl nodded, his eyes still focused on the unconscious Emilia, and lifted a hand to chew on his thumbnail.
"Why?"
Daryl looked at him for the first time since they had come inside and he was looking at Rick like there was something wrong with him.
"Because they're fuckin' French," he muttered, "You heard her talking before didn't ya? English is her second language. I can understand her most of the time when she's speaking French, but I sure as hell can't speak it."
This was more detail than any of them had heard Daryl use in conversation before. Rick chalked it up to the shock of seeing a loved one that was previously believed to be dead. Or in France. Either way her appearance was unexpected and it was clearly throwing Daryl for a loop.
"Why can you understand it?" questioned Glenn from his position on the other side of Maggie.
Daryl didn't look at him when he replied; his focus had shifted back to Emilia.
"Just happens when ya hear it all the damn time fer a long time."
"So you knew her for a while then?" deduced Rick.
"'Bout eight years now."
He hung his head a bit and rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly becoming awkward like the Daryl they were used to.
"Are you married?" asked Lori in a casual tone.
Daryl went into a coughing fit for a few moments and when he answered he refused to look at anyone.
"Nah, we ain't married."
Rick took pity on his friend who was clearly getting more and more uncomfortable. He tried to turn the conversation back to less personal matters.
"Has she got any skills or anything that'll be valuable to us?" he asked.
A smirk twitched at the corners of Daryl's mouth.
"She's gunna be our biggest asset," he replied in a tone that suggested he knew something they didn't.
Maggie turned her head to the left to look at him in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
His lips twitched into an almost smirk again.
"She's smart," he said bluntly. Maggie looked unimpressed.
"Don't take this the wrong way," she began in a slow and cautious voice, "But I think all of us are smart. Hell, I even got straight A's in college and that's not helping me out at all."
Daryl shook his head.
"Ya don't understand. She ain't just school smart or some shit. She's scary smart. Her mind just don' work in the same way that ours do. It's like a calculator or sumthin' and she can solve any problem ya give her. Don' matter what it involves."
The others still didn't look as impressed or enthused as Daryl apparently wanted them to be.
"No offense," said Maggie in the same tone she had used before, "But are you sure you're not just biased because she's your girlfriend or whatever?"
Daryl exhaled sharply in frustration and ruffled his hair with both his hands, making certain pieces stick straight out.
"I ain't exaggeratin' and I ain't fuckin' bias," he griped obstinately. He exhaled again to calm himself down, "Look, when I first met that girl she was 20 and already working on her PhD. She was done less than two years later. That put things inta perspective for ya?"
Rick whistled lowly between his teeth, "Jesus."
Daryl nodded in agreement with Rick and the others looked similarly astounded.
"She ain't the normal, vanilla kind of smart. She's a fuckin' genius."
"That's insane," laughed Glenn, "What's her PhD in?"
A full-blown smirk now broke out across Daryl's face before he answered.
"Mechanical engineering with a concentration in advanced weaponry."
The room of the cellblock went completely silent. Everyone was frozen in shock as Daryl sat there smirking at all of them. It was finally Rick who spoke up.
"You're shitting me right?" he muttered with a blank face.
"I ain't," chuckled Daryl, "That French girl can fix anything broke and knows more about guns than the entire US military."
One by one, each person started to either laugh or smile at their incredible luck. Only a week after finding the safest place they had since the farm, one of the only people Daryl cared about in the world found them, and said person would undoubtedly be an invaluable advantage to them. It had been a good week and this was the best the group had felt in a long, long time. There was still the issue of where Emilia came from and who had inflicted those injuries on her, but in that moment they were feeling good and the prison offered them safety.
Suddenly Emilia sat up gasping wildly. Lori shrieked and put a hand to her chest in fright. Hershel was up in an instant trying to calm the young woman down while Daryl sat against the wall with wide eyes. Emilia was frantically looking back and forth at all the strangers that surrounded her, her breaths coming shallower and shallower as she took in each unfamiliar face.
"Listen to me Emilia," said Hershel in a soothing voice, "No one here is going to hurt you."
She didn't seem to hear him and her bright, turquoise eyes were quickly filling with tears. They flew around the room and stopped when they landed on Daryl. Her face crumpled and the tears spilled onto her cheeks. A look of intense longing had come over Daryl's face. Before anyone could move or say anything more, Emilia shot off the table and onto Daryl's lap. Her arms went around his neck and her legs were straddling him on either side as she pressed her face into his neck and sobbed. Daryl immediately raised his arms to grip her back and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, hiding the emotions displayed so clearly over his face from the others. Without saying anything, he stood fluidly with Emilia in his arms and carried her into the cell farthest away from the group. The others stared at each other as Emilia's muffled sobs grew quieter.
"Well," said Rick somewhat awkwardly, "I'm sure Daryl will introduce us once she's had a little time to adjust and calm down. Why don't we prepare some food and water for her? Beth? Could you lend her some clothes? You're the closest to her in height and you saw the condition of the clothes she was wearing. Let's all just try to maker her as comfortable as possible alright?"
Beth nodded and scurried off to collect some clean clothing while Lori and Maggie headed towards the kitchen to see what food they could rustle up. Hershel crutched over to Rick with a somber expression.
"Can I speak with you privately for a minute?"
Rick nodded and followed Hershel into one of the cells near them.
"What is it Hershel?"
An uneasy look came over the vet's face and he cleared his throat before speaking.
"Given the nature of Emilia's injuries, I'd really like to check her over while she's awake," he said in a hushed voice.
Rick scrunched his eyebrows together and crossed his arms.
"What do you mean the nature of them?" he asked with some trepidation because of the tone Hershel was using.
"I mean," he answered before dropping his voice to an even lower level, "The precision of the laceration on her leg and the fact that the injuries to her face and neck indicate that this was the work of another human. It's the location of the cut on her leg that bothers me the most."
Rick still looked confused but then sudden clarity overcame his features as he realized what Hershel was getting at. Then a look of disgust was quick to follow.
"Do you-," he stopped and shifted his arms, "Do you mean that you think she was raped?"
Hershel pressed his lips together and adjusted his crutches.
"I don't think it's safe to assume things of such gravity, but I don't think we can rule it out. I'd really like to talk to her because in some instances, a rape victim can be left with internal injuries."
Rick shook his head as disgust and anger washed over him. He tried to push it down for now. He needed to sort out this whole thing with a clear head.
"I think you're absolutely right Hershel, but we need to tread about this very delicately. Why don't you go take Emilia some water so you can approach the subject with her and Daryl in private? Be careful with what you say around Daryl though; we've already seen how strongly he reacts to situations with that girl."
Daryl walked into the cell with the bawling Emilia in his arms and dropped to sit on the mattress as he fought back tears of happiness. He was finally allowing himself to really believe that this was happening and not just a figment of his imagination. After nearly a year of thinking she was dead or he was never going to see her again, she was here. Emilia was here at the prison. She was dirty and hurt, but she was here. How she got there was a complete mystery to him but he could wait to hear her story. Right now he just wanted to hold onto her and revel in the fact that he was happy, actually happy, for the first time since he saw her last.
He could feel her tears running down his neck and dampening his shirt but he couldn't find it in himself to care in the slightest. He held her just as tightly as she was holding him for a few more moments before gently prying her arms away from her neck and pushing her back so he could see her face.
"How in the fuckin' hell are ya here Emilia?" he said as he rested his forehead against hers and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears under her eyes.
She smiled weakly and shook her head against his slightly.
"Later," she whispered, "I don't want to talk about eet just yet."
Daryl closed his eyes as her voice washed over him.
"Alright," he murmured before pressing a swift kiss to her forehead, "Later. But right now we gotta get ya some food and water. And a shower."
"Zere are showers 'ere?" she asked in a hopeful voice. He smiled.
"Yeah, a shit ton."
She wrinkled her nose at his choice of words as he ran his large hands up and down her arms. She reached a small hand up to card through he hair on the side of his head.
"Your 'air is long. Eet looks strange," she said softly while Daryl tried his hardest not to push his head further against her hand like a cat.
"And yer hair is covered in dirt Germain," he shot back with a snort.
Emilia smiled fully, with her lips stretched wide across her straight, white teeth and her eyes crinkled, for the first time since being there. Daryl had to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat as he brought one hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a rough and desperate kiss. She responded just as eagerly and deepened the kiss immediately, tears still lingering on her face. Daryl moved his hands to her trim waist and quickly pulled her flush against his body as their movements became more rushed and frenzied by the second. His hands found her hot skin under her torn shirt and hers were gripping clumps of his hair tightly.
A knock against the wall outside of the cell made Emilia jump and Daryl immediately freeze. They looked towards he door and saw Hershel standing there with Maggie. The former was wearing an expression that looked torn between embarrassment and amusement, and the latter was smirking largely. Daryl coughed and gently pushed Emilia off of his lap to sit on the bed next to him. He could feel his face reddening but he still kept one hand on her knee, refusing to lose contact. Maggie came into the cell and placed a glass of water and what looked like some clothing on the end of the bed before smiling at both of them and leaving.
"Sorry," Daryl grunted without looking at the vet.
He shot a look at Emilia, who was staring openly at the space of air where Hershel's leg used to reside. Her head was slightly tilted and her face looked deep in thought. He almost had forgotten that Emilia was just as socially inept as he was, just in different ways.
"This is Hershel," he gestured towards the old man, "He looked ya over when I brought ya in."
"What 'appened to your leg?" she asked bluntly, looking at the vet.
"Emilia…" Daryl mumbled lowly, unsure of how Hershel would react.
Hershel looked mildly surprised at first, both by Emilia's thick French accent and her forwardness, but he recovered quickly and chuckled.
"I was bitten and one of our group took an axe to it before the infection could spread. He saved my life."
He crutched into the cell then and leaned against the wall opposite of the bed the couple was sitting on. His face was more serious now.
"Now Emilia," he began slowly, "Given the nature of your injuries, and the, er, location of the laceration on your leg-"
Emilia cut him off quickly.
"I was not raped," she said frankly, clearly understanding the direction in which Hershel was steering the conversation. The vet looked immensely relieved. Daryl on the other hand stood up roughly and stared down at Emilia with wide, horrified eyes. The possibility of her being raped hadn't even crossed his mind before, and now that he was entertaining the thought he felt physically ill. Before he could even take a step forward or say something on the matter, Emilia's small hand was gripping his wrist and tugging him downward. She was staring at him with a slight frown on her face. After not seeing her for nearly a year, he couldn't stop himself from doing whatever would make her happy, so he sat down hard on the bed with a slightly befuddled expression on.
"Stop eet," admonished Emilia lightly to Daryl, "Eet did not 'appen so zere is no need to be upset."
"Yer makin' it sound like it coulda fuckin' happened though," replied Daryl in a strangled voice as he lowered his head into his hands. Emilia didn't say anything in response but she kept her hand clasped loosely around Daryl's wrist.
Hershel had watched the whole exchange between the couple with a look of curiosity on his face. It was interesting seeing a different side of the normally stoic and brusque man.
"Well that's great news Emilia," said Hershel loudly, calling their attention back towards himself, "I'd still like to look you over once more after you've washed up a bit more. Just to make sure you really don't have any more serious injuries. That is, if that's alright with you Emilia?"
Daryl turned his head in his hands so he could watch her response.
"Yes, zat's fine," answered Emilia lowly. Daryl knew she was only agreeing to appease him but he appreciated it all the same.
"Alright," said Hershel with a gentle smile, "Well a few of the women are making some food for dinner, but I brought you some water and clothes from my daughter Beth. If you want to use the showers now would be a good time because they're currently empty. The food should be ready by the time you're done. I assume you're going with her Daryl?"
Daryl nodded without looking at the vet as the tips of his ears colored for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Hershel said his goodbyes and crutched out of the cell, leaving them alone once more. Daryl kept his head in his hands as he heard Emilia drain the glass of water next to him. Then her hand was tugging on his wrist again, but this time she was trying to get him to stand. He obliged silently and grabbed the pile of clothing as he stood. He didn't bother retrieving his crossbow from the common area, as he already had his hunting knife strapped to his belt. Without a word, he led Emilia out of the cell towards the door to the prison corridor. Emilia was half a step behind him and gripping the waistline of his pants with one hand. He ignored the few members of the group that were watching from the other end of the room and led Emilia to the shower block, all in complete silence.
When they arrived at the block, Daryl gently pushed Emilia towards one of the heads and took a leaning stance against the wall that would give him visibility to both the showers and the room on the other side. They had secured this part of the prison but he wasn't going to risk being ambushed by a stray walker so soon after getting Emilia back. She, on the other hand, wasted no time in getting disrobed and when Daryl turned back from his precautionary sweep of the other room, she was already naked and under the chilly spray of the shower. Daryl watched with longing as the water ran down the curves of her body, carrying more dirt and grime that Maggie had missed when she initially cleaned her up somewhat. She shook out her long hair and let the water also rinse it clean before grabbing the shampoo that somebody had left in there and using it to clean every inch of her body.
"Do you 'ave any of, um, ze metal zings that you cut paper with?" she asked loudly as she tilted her head to one side to wash out the suds in her hair.
Daryl was embarrassed to say that he nearly melted a little inside when he heard her ask that; it was the first time he'd heard anyone ask him how to say something in English since the last time he had seen her. He had been an expert at interpreting Emilia's pseudo-riddles before the whole zombie thing happened, and it felt so wonderfully right to do it again.
"Ya mean scissors?" he said with a laugh that sounded more pained than humorous as he fought to reign in his emotions.
Emilia nodded from her position under the shower spray.
"Nah," he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his eyes, "I got my knife here though? S'that alright?"
She nodded again and walked towards him to take the blade from his outstretched hand.
"Whaddya even need it f- shit!" he exclaimed as she used the sharp knife to saw off the bottom six inches of her hair, "The hell ya doin' that for Emilia?"
She raised her eyebrows at him before tossing the handful of hair into the barrel-style trashcan in the room.
"My 'air is too long," she said in a matter of fact voice, "Zis part is dead anyway."
Daryl shook his head and snorted in amusement as she hacked off uneven pieces of her hair until it all fell evenly a few inches above her breasts in long, choppy layers. She handed him his knife back and rinsed off once more before turning the water off completely then coming to stand before him. Now that she was truly clean, her injuries appeared all the more vivid against the backdrop of her creamy skin. Daryl bit his lip as he carefully touched the tips of his fingers to the bruise surrounding her eye. He then ghosted them across the bruises on her neck and down her bare side. She covered his hand with her own and looked up at him through her thick eyelashes.
"You are still upset, no?" she asked innocently.
"Yeah I'm fuckin' upset," he said gruffly, "Ya can't expect me not to be when some sick fuck did this to ya. Doesn't take a genius like you to figure that out."
Emilia stared at him in that calculating way he was used to after so many years. He felt himself bristling slightly as he watched her try to figure out what was going on inside of his head, but he was surprised when she pressed her warm and wet body against his. Usually she didn't know how to comfort people, just one of her many social flaws, and it was a nice change to be offered physical comfort for once instead of her trying to take him apart and examine him piece by piece like one of her machines. Not caring about getting wet in the slightest, he wrapped both of his strong arms around the shoulders of her small frame and buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed skin. Her hands were wrapped around the small of his back and her head was turned sideways against his chest as he breathed deeply in an effort to calm himself down. He carefully lowered them both to the ground and pulled her from his front to his side. He ran a hand through her now shorter hair and breathed in harshly against the rage that was building within him.
Emilia turned her head against his shoulder so she could look at his face.
"You don't 'ave to worry about ze men zat did zis," she said softly as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers roughly.
"Ya can't fuckin' tell me that, not 'bout anyone who would do this to ya. There ain't no fuckin' way I ain't gunna worry," he muttered harshly.
Emilia grabbed the hand rubbing at his eyes and forced it away from his face.
"You don't 'ave to worry," she murmured, "Because zey 'ave already been taken care of."
Daryl narrowed his eyes and looked at her.
"Whaddya mean?"
"I killed zem all when I escaped," she responded without any regret, "'Ow else would I 'ave gotten away?"
Daryl stared at her hard for nearly an entire minute before sighing. Knowing that the men who hurt her were already dead certainly did alleviate much of the anger he was currently feeling. Seeing her injuries still made him sick to his stomach though, their deaths wouldn't make that feeling disappear. A corner of his mouth twitched up and he pressed a clumsy kiss to her temple.
"Good girl."
She giggled at his words and slipped from his arms so she could stand. He copied her movement and leaned against the wall as she pulled on the clothes that Beth had loaned her, which happened to be a plain black tank top and a pair of blue running shorts. The shorts were too small given the few inches of height that Beth had over Emilia and the tank top was stretched quite tightly across her breasts, but they were still much better than the shredded clothing that Emilia had arrived in.
"Come on," he said with a nod towards the door, "Let's get some food then go to bed."
Rick looked up when he heard the door to the cellblock open and saw Daryl step through with Emilia barely a step behind him. She kept partially behind him as they approached the others, with one hand firmly gripping a portion of Daryl's sleeveless plaid shirt. Rick noted that Emilia looked much better after showering. Her hair, that he could now see was a deep chocolate brown, tumbled around her shoulders silkily and her pale skin was practically glowing despite the few visible injuries. He could see why she had drawn the attention of whatever men injured her, as sick as it was to think like that. Rick watched as she whispered something too low for them to hear to Daryl and the redneck dipped his head and placed a hand on the small of her back as he listened intently. He also didn't miss the fact that Daryl's clothing was wet. Rick jumped and lost his focus when a plate slammed into the table next to him. He looked up and saw Carol retreating into the kitchen. He was confused by her actions but he didn't have time to ruminate about it because Daryl started speaking to them all.
"Uh, yeah," he coughed while scratching the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of attention, "That's Rick, ya already met Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Lori, and I guess you'll meet Carol, T-dog, and Carl another time."
Emilia looked at them all but didn't say anything as the others either waved or voiced a greeting to her. She smiled tightly and kept her hand fisted in the fabric of Daryl's shirt. Daryl nudged her towards the table but was immediately met with resistance. Emilia wasn't budging; she was staring at Daryl's crossbow propped against the wall. The owner of it snorted when he realized what her attention was on.
"Please tell me zat belongs to you," she said in a desperate voice as she turned to look at Daryl. Her bluish green eyes were hopeful as she stared up at him, her other hand also coming to clasp his shirt as well. Daryl grinned with much amusement.
"Firs' thing me and Merle did once we got outta town was raid the huntin' store," he said proudly as Emilia smiled fully again and practically skipped barefoot over to the weapon.
She picked it up and immediately held the scope up to her eye.
"Screwdriver?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Daryl expectantly. He nodded like he expected her question.
"Yeah yeah, just hold on fer a minute while I get food," he chuckled lightly before striding over to one of the tables that lined the wall and grabbed the aforementioned tool. He tossed it to Emilia.
"Merci," she murmured absently, her whole attention now focused on the weapon in her hands.
Daryl then headed over to the table that the rest of them were occupying. He took two of the bowls of meat set out and met the loaded stares of the group as they looked between him and Emilia.
"She sounds…really French," said Glenn lamely after a few seconds. Daryl gave him a weird look.
"I told ya she was didn' I?" asked Daryl somewhat stiffly.
"Yeah I know!" said Glenn quickly, "I just didn't expect the accent to be that strong.
A few of the others nodded in agreement.
"She doesn't seem to like us," whispered Lori to Daryl, "Did we do anything to make her upset?"
Daryl snorted and shook his head.
"It ain't that," he reassured her, "Just takes her a while to warm up. She's not good with new people, doesn't understand or trust 'em much."
"Gee, I can't believe you two are together, you're nothing alike," joked Maggie sarcastically.
Daryl threw a half-hearted glare towards the younger girl. Suddenly a look of horror came over Rick's face as he looked past Daryl's shoulder. Emilia was sitting on the floor with his beloved crossbow in pieces around her. The others looked equally as horrified when they too saw the hunter's weapon torn apart, knowing how protective he was of that thing, but Daryl just laughed when he saw it.
"Don' worry. She'll put it back together exactly the same or better than it was before."
With that he took the two bowls and joined Emilia on the floor as she fiddled with the different components of his weapon. The others watched for a minute as the couple simultaneously conversed and ate, all while Emilia continued to tinker with Daryl's weapon. Daryl had his back against the wall and Emilia was sitting cross-legged next to him, but facing the other direction. Their bodies were turned toward each other and their heads were bowed close together. They couldn't hear what they were saying from their position at the table but every once in a while Daryl would smirk or laugh and Emilia would smile back brightly as her fingers played with different pieces of the crossbow.
"Is it just me," whispered Maggie serious, "Or are they kind of adorable?"
"They are, right?" whispered Lori back conspiratorially with unbelieving eyes, "Never thought I'd say that about Daryl Dixon. I mean he's handsome enough under all the dirt but I never pictured him acting like this with another person."
"I think this is going to be very interesting for us," chuckled Rick, "We might actually learn something about Daryl."
The others laughed with him.
THANKS FOR READING!