Chapter 3~Lean on Me

Daryl POV

"How far to the farm?" Diane was finishing up wrapping the meat in plastic bags.

"Not far. I was out hunting for a day and a half. About two miles, give or take. South."

Heaving up her backpack, Diane went back to her bow and strapped it to her quiver. "Alright. You ready?" Daryl nodded and tried to get up but fell back. "Hold on..." she turned and found a strong limb for him to use as a crutch. "Here, try this." Taking hold of her arm, he hauled himself up on his good leg and put the stick under his arm. With Diane under the arm above the bad leg, they set off.

It took most of the day before they managed to break out into the clearing. As soon as they were in sight, Daryl yelled for Rick and Hershal. They came running, along with several other people. He knew what they saw was strange. They're best hunter wounded yet again and being hauled towards them by a small woman in a camo cap, grey tank top, green cargo pants, and combat boots, lugging a large military style backpack and quiver.

"What the hell happened?!" Rick yelled as they neared.

"Huntin' accident. Found a wounded buck, thought I could salvage it, turned out she was trackin' it, shot right as I stepped out. Caught my leg." Hershal ushered them to the house.

As they got into the room they used for wounded, the second time Daryl had been in it. They got him down on the bed, then Rick rounded on her.

Diane POV

"Strip her of her weapons," the man in the cop's uniform, probably Rick, ordered the big black man and a frail looking woman with short-cropped hair.

"Excuse me? I just saved your buddy."

"You're the one who shot him in the first place. We don't know you, and I can't have the possibility of you hurting someone else."

Diane leaned around to look at the redneck on the bed. "I thought you said I wouldn't get blown up?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Not my place to give orders."

"Right...so, I assume you're Rick, then?"

"How do you know my name?"

"How do you think? Your boy here told me about y'all. I didn't mean to shoot him, I patched him up. He told me that my family and I would be safe here if I asked you to let us stay." Rick turned and looked at Daryl.

"Why?"

"Her momma's sick. She agreed to give us the majority of the deer she killed in return for us lettin' them stay here while she recovered."

"That last bit was my idea, by the way." She raised her hand with a smile. "Look, I am not gonna hurt any of y'all, just like I told Daryl. My mother needs medical attention and I've been gone far too long helpin' get this guy home. I'm sure one of the boys has managed to get themselves hurt at some point. Please, I'm not asking for you to let us stay forever, just long enough for my mom to get better."

Rick and the others stared at her until Rick turned to Hershal. "It's your farm, your rules. What d'ya say?"

"I say we let 'em stay. How many of y'all are there?"

"Six, including me. We can help with anything around here while we stay. Me and Collin spent four years workin' on our grandad's farm in Mississippi, then takin' care of the property at my house. Michael is ex-military, taught me everything I know about hunting and guns. Collin's pretty handy with a hammer, Rob's great with figurin' stuff out. Tammy can help cook, and Momma-"

"Alright, sweetheart, I get it. Y'all are helpful, and we sure appreciate it. But, for now, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your weapons...all of 'em." She nodded, following the pair into the living room.

"Just so you know, I've already contacted my people. They know I'm here, and are waiting for me to send word that it's safe."

"Well, you can tell 'em tomorrow. Now, take 'em off." The big man, who she figured was T-Dog, pointed to the coffee table.

Shrugging, she pulled the quiver over her head, pulled her backpack off, then reached to her belt to take off the multitude of knives and hand guns that hung there. Knives came out of every crevice, guns from her ankles, and throwing pins from her hair. Seeing these, T-Dog and the woman blanched.

"What? I'm skilled and old fashioned."

"I don't think old fashioned women would agree." The woman picked one up, "How do you even use these?"

"Here, lemme show ya." When Diane reached for it, T-Dog grabbed her hand. "I'm not gonna hurt anyone, just gonna throw it at the wall." The big man narrowed his eyes at her before letting go and allowing her to take the pin. "It's a lot like a regular throwing knife, only smaller, therefore more likely to go off course. See that crack in the wall there?" As soon as they saw it, she loosed the pin, right in the middle of the crack. "And viola. Takes some practice, but it's well worth it. Most people don't expect women to carry deadly hair pins...unless they're latino. Them bitches are crazy." Placing the pin back with the rest, she stood. "So, you gonna frisk me? Strip search me? What's the deal here?"

"Uh, nothin'. Just take you out to meet the rest, I s'pose."

"Fine with me. Didn't really fancy strippin' in an old man's house, might give him a heart attack."

"That you very well might." Hershal stepped into the room, wiping his hands on a towel, Rick right behind him. "So, I'll thank you not to unless you're takin' a bath."

"How is he?" Diane asked.

"Oh, fine, fine. Thanks to your well executed first aid. Don't see that kind of meticulousness out in the woods much, or sterile bandages," he told her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"I keep a first aid kit in my bag. You're welcome to go through it. I got more weapons, ammo, and some meat that'll need to be taken care of soon."

"More weapons?" Rick asked looking at the table.

"Man, this girl's packin' more heat than all of us together."

"Where the hell'd you get all this stuff?"

"I told you, my brother-in-law is ex-military. He had keys to a National Guard station that he worked at. Got us in, got it cleared out. Made several stops at a couple others along the way."

"Are any of your group a danger to us?"

"Not really. Not unless you give us a reason to be, like threatening us, or making us feel threatened. It's not the best idea. Ex-army dog, and a kid who used to have serious anger issues, then me, all of who can and will kill someone in a heartbeat if I think they are any kind of danger to our family." They all stared at her for a moment, soaking in what she said. "Any of your people a danger to mine?"

"Just Daryl, maybe, and I think you hit it off pretty well with him." Rick chuckled. "Other than that, as long as your guys know who's in charge, there won't be a problem. When they get here, they'll be stripped of their weapons as well until we're sure they won't kill us in our sleep."

"None of us are like that," Diane was offended. "We have tried takin' people in before, and each time, it was them who tried to kill us. We have no intention of ruining a perfectly good opportunity of belonging somewhere." Shaking her head, she turned back to Hershal. "Is it ok if I go talk to Daryl, or is he too drugged up to speak?"

"Naw, he handles pain rather well." Probably because he's seen too much of it. "But you may have to wait 'til tomorrow to talk to him. He's...not exactly thrilled about what happened."

"I understand." Diane wasn't an idiot. She had seen the edges of the scars under his shirt, and she knew all too well what had made them. Hershal called his oldest daughter, Maggie, to take her to the bathroom to get clean. "Oh, I've got some stuff in my bag. Meat that needs to either be cooked or cured, some canned goods if y'all need any. I've got some extra clothes, so there's no need to give me any."

Maggie nodded at her, then left the room, only to return with her backpack and dumped it out on the floor. It occured to Diane that Maggie wasn't too thrilled with putting their best hunter out of commision. Looking back at the woman, she saw the look of hatred that accompanied the rough actions. She knelt down and started separating out the meat and weapons, and the clothes she would need. Weapons went back in the bag, clothes in her arms, and the meat with T-Dog to the kitchen. Maggie led her to the bathroom, then left her alone.

Diane let the water heat up as she stripped. Once her dirty clothes were piled in the corner, she shed her glasses and stepped under the spray. It had been far too long since she had a hot shower, and watched as the dirt and grime literally ran off her. The water going down the drain was nearly opaque with filth. There was a wash rag hanging on the rail, along with various soaps and shampoo. One of the soap bars smelled of lavender, which she rubbed on the rag then scrubbed her skin raw.

When she was done, she dressed and braided her hair to get it out of the way. She was met outside by a thin woman who identified herself as Lori, Rick's wife. She was in charge of getting Diane something to eat and finding a place for her to stay for the night. Apparently, since none of them knew her, she had to stay in the house under lock and key, with someone outside the door at all times.

It's gonna be a long night.

The next morning, Diane was allowed out for the day. When Beth mentioned taking breakfast to Daryl, she offered to take it for her. They pointed her down the hall and left her alone after that. She knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, before opening it a bit.

"Hey, there. How you feelin'?" She opened it a little more when she saw him roll over and pull the blanket up.

"Like I just gone shot through the leg. Doc gave me some meds for the pain, but I can't take 'em 'til I eat." The hunter watched her through narrowed eyes as she set the tray down.

"I'm sorry." She sat down in the chair nex to the bed.

"It'll be fine. I've been through worse. Last time I went out lookin' for Sophia, I fell on an arrow. Messed my side up pretty bad. Got shot, too."

"Shot?"

"Andrea thought I was a walker."

"I see...Well, here's your breakfast, so you can take the meds right after." He grunted in resopnse and went to get the tray, but stopped when she didn't move.

"Somethin' you need?"

"Just figured I'd keep you company. I don't really know anyone else, until my group gets here this evening. None of others seem to like me very much."

"Some of 'em don't like anybody much, but that don't mean you gotta sit around here an' bug me.

"Oh, you wound me, Mr. Dixon," she held her chest in mock hurt. "And here I thought we were friends."

"I ain't got no friends."

"Really?" he nodded. "I don't think that's true. Look at all the people around here that wanna kill me 'cause I accidently shot you, though I understand that they think I might have done it on purpose." Noticing that he still hadn't moved for trying to keep the sheet over his chest, Diane got up and grabbed his shirt. "If it really bothers you that much, you could just ask me to leave."

"What bothers me?" he snatched his shirt and waited for her to turn around. "You think I'm bothered by the fact that a pretty girl is in the room waitin' to see me half naked, when I know I look damn fine."

The snark response made her chuckle. "Although I'm glad that you think so highly of your physique, that's not what I meant." She turned around when she heard the clink of silverware. "I meant the scars that you try so hard to hide from everyone, and succeed for the most part."

Daryl's eyes shot up from his food, fork halfway to his mouth. A dark looked flashed through his blue orbs. He carefully set the utinsel down, staring hard at his scrambled eggs. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout?"

"You know very well what I'm talkin' about. I'm not blind, nor am I stupid. I know perfectly well what happened-"

"You don't know a damn thing!" She stepped back as he threw himself from the bed, and got in her face. "You don't know what I've gone through and you ain't got no right to even think about tryin' to sympathise." His voice was low and rough, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "Don't even try to talk like you jack shit, 'cause you obviously don't."

Diane's face was stoney, but her eyes held fear. "You're gonna mess up your leg more than it already is. You should probably lay back down."

"The hell with my leg!"

"You're gonna regret it in about two seconds." Sure enough, she could see the pain return to his eyes as the adrenaline started fading. "Why don't you finish your breakfast, and I'll go see if anybody needs help outside?"

"I think you better go do that." Daryl turned away from her and sat back down, grabbing the tray as she moved to open the door.

"And just so you know, Mr. Dixon, I do know what I'm talkin' about. I may not know exactly what you went through before I shot you yesterday, but I do know a thing or two about pain and the scars that it leaves...both visible and not." With that, she left, closing the door firmly behind her.