*A/N*: I do not own The Walking Dead, its universe, nor its characters. I only own Lily Cross. This fic does not follow canon. I hope you enjoy, and please, leave a review! It does my heart well to hear from my readers!

***I do not personally share nor condone the views, expressions, opinions, thoughts, or actions of Lily. All of these things are strictly intended for the development of the character/story—nothing more.

Cross and Angel Wings

Chapter 3:

I slowly opened my eyes and took in the room I was in. It was dark out; the only light came from the lone candle on the bedside table. The room was decorated in a normal farmhouse fashion: plain and homey. I all but pissed myself, though, when I turned my head to find "mystery man" sleeping in a chair at my bedside.

Since I was finally able to give him a closer look without being interrupted or noticed, I made the most of the opportunity. He had dark hair, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. He was well built to say the least. He wore a leather jacket with the sleeves cut off, much like mine; the jeans and boots he wore were even close in comparison of mine, except manlier. He's obviously got good taste in clothes. Even his tattoos were a turn-on; I couldn't exactly make them out in this light, but it didn't really matter.

All-in-all, the mystery man could only be described as my version of the perfect man. Hell, the only flaw I managed to find was that he was dirty, and honestly, that wasn't considered a flaw in the world we lived in now. I'm not sure how long I stared at him, but the more I did, the better he looked. Needless to say, if I thought he was good looking earlier, he was downright gorgeous now.

I further inspected his features. I was just admiring the way he slept when something clicked in my head. He looked—familiar. I strained my eyes to see him better in the dim light. I knew I had never met him before, but something about him reminded me of someone. As I racked my brain for an answer, I suddenly remembered the events of the day: finding him, the rambling—the rambling. That's right, he knows Merle. I looked at him again. Merle. Merle? Merle! Holy, shit.

I had a sinking feeling I was staring at—and fantasizing about—Merle's own little brother, the one he was looking for. Great. I wouldn't know for sure, though, until morning when I could actually test my theory; I clung to that hope like an anchor. My next revelation, however, hit me like a freight train. But if that's Merle's little brother, then—oh, no. Then—I'm also sharing this house with that group. The group that left Merle on that damn roof. Shit! I've got to get out of here!

I shot up as soon as those thoughts had been processed. He twitched in his sleep, and I bit back a cry. In all of my rambling thoughts and revelations, I had skipped one very important detail—I had also been shot. Damnit. I tried to move again, but it was no use. I've never been a crybaby—my dad made sure of that. Still, a healing gunshot wound isn't pretty, and it hurts like a bitch. I wasn't going anywhere tonight. I slowly eased back down and rested my head on the pillow. It's going to be a long night.

I must had fallen back asleep, because when I reopened my eyes, the sun was up. Mystery man was also nowhere to be found. His absence was to be short-lived, though. I had just sat up a little when he came through the door with another man in a sheriff's uniform. Man, I fucking hate cops. This should be good.

I immediately put up my guard as I remembered the sudden revelations of the night before. It went up even further when the badge on the sheriff's chest caught the light from the window. I listened as the sheriff introduced himself as Rick Grimes and mystery man as Daryl Dixon. My suspicions were confirmed. This was, indeed, Merle's little brother—and the other was the apparent leader of the group. Damn.

I'm not sure what Rick was saying; I wasn't listening. I had my eyes on Daryl, "Well, it's easy to see who got all the looks in the family." "'Scuse me," he replied. Rick stared between the two of us, clearly confused—and silent. "You're Merle's little brother, ain't you," I asked. "Wait—you know Merle," he answered with a question. I ignored him as I turned my attention to Rick.

"And you—must be the leader of the fucking cowards that left him on that damned roof," I spat; Rick's mouth dropped open slightly, and I heard Daryl snort. "I knew that cops didn't have balls figuratively, but I didn't know they literally cut 'em off when you graduated that fuckin' academy, Sheriff," I continued. That one struck a nerve. "Now, wait just a damn minute-," he started, but I cut him off.

"No, you wait just a damn minute. I've seen a lot of spineless pricks in my life, but never a whole fucking group! The world may have gone to shit, but it is not okay to leave a man cuffed to a roof because you're too chicken-shit to kill him yourself," I practically yelled. "You don't know Merle-," Rick tried again, and I once again cut him off.

"You're right, I don't know him. But I saved his ass all the same," I retorted. "You mean—you killed all them walkers," Daryl chimed in. This time, I answered his question," Well, he damn sure didn't do it." He shook his head in disbelief, rubbed the back of his neck, and chuckled in the sexiest huskiness I had ever heard. "Shit," he mumbled before Rick started again.

"Like I said, you don't know him; he's dangerous," Rick said. "Ain't we all. All I'm saying, is that if he was so much of a threat, one of you should have had the guts to put a bullet in his head and been done with it," I replied. "If we wouldn't have cuffed him, he would've killed T-Dog and no tellin' who else," he continued. "Survival of the fittest, honey," I said. Daryl snorted again.

"What's that supposed to mean," Rick asked. "It means that if he could've killed T-whoever, maybe he was just saving you the trouble of the inevitable. Maybe he wouldn't have killed him, anyway. But instead of giving him a fighting chance like you obviously gave Tree-frog, or even giving him a decent death, you handcuffed him to a fucking roof to let the walkers do your dirty work," I ranted. "Nobody deserves to die like that—nobody," I continued. Daryl continued to listen in silence as Rick continued to defend his actions.

"You just admitted that you don't even know Merle, but you keep defending him like he's your long-lost brother or something-," I cut him off again. "Well, he is his long-lost brother," I said with a smirk as I nodded my head in Daryl's direction. Daryl shook his head and chuckled again, and Rick exploded.

"You sit there and reprimand me for doing what I did, but all I really did was ensure this group's safety," he yelled as he paced back and forth. "Those are awfully big words for a simple, hicktown sheriff," I replied mockingly, crossing my arms and staring at him. I could hear him grinding his teeth as soon as I spoke those words. I think I even saw steam coming from his ears the moment Daryl started laughing. At least something pleasant has come out of this. Rick threw his hands up and stormed out of the room, muttering under his breath as he went. Finally.

Daryl watched Rick leave the room, then took a step closer to my bedside. "So…," he trailed off; I waited. "Merle's—alive," he asked. "Last I saw him, he was," I answered. He was clearly relieved to hear it. I watched him rub the back of his neck again before he explained, "I went back for him—but all I found was them dead walkers, half of the handcuffs, and that hacksaw. Rick and the others went with me to get him…" I snorted, "Aww, they had a change of heart; I guess that makes everything all peachy then, don't it?" He ignored my smartass comment.

"When—where did you last see him," he questioned. "I can't tell you when; I don't exactly keep up with time anymore, but I can tell you where. He was still in Atlanta. I left him as soon as I saw to it that he made it back on the street." He gave me a look, and I quickly added, "Don't worry, the streets were walker-free when I left, and I made sure he had a couple weapons and plenty of supplies before I ditched him."

"But why-," he started, but I cut him off. "Let me guess—why did I leave him," I finished for him; he nodded. "Look, I'll tell you just like I told your brother: I travel alone. He didn't exactly seem like the weak sort, anyway. And, honestly, your ol' sheriff there was right about one thing—Merle ain't no big, fluffy teddy bear. I know an army man when I see one; I've been around enough of 'em—hell, I was one…," I trailed off.

"You were in the army," he asked, clearly surprised. "I was. I had just come back from my second tour—and when I mean 'just come back', I mean I just stepped off the damn plane—when those bastards started attacking," I answered. "Some homecoming," I added with a snort; he chuckled. "But, back to your big brother. I know an army man when I see one. Between that, and the way he looked at me when we re-entered the street, I knew one of two things would've happened if I took him with me: we would've hooked up or we would've gotten into it. Neither one of those could've ended up good," I finished. He gave me another look and snorted.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, but it didn't stop him. "Look—before I heard him yelling on that damned roof, I thought I was the only living person left. And until he mentioned his 'little brother' or a group—I thought he was the last man on Earth-," his laugh cut me off. I glared at him a few seconds before laughing too. Man, it feels good to laugh. "But never fear, darlin'. Now that I've seen you, Merle doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting with me," he instantly stopped laughing. As he stared at me, obviously shocked by my statement, I could have sworn he was beginning to look a little flushed.

I smiled to myself. Does he even realize how good he looks? I let my smile show on my face before continuing, "Besides, there was no way Merle would've rode bitch, and I damn sure wasn't going to." If it were possible, he looked even more shocked. "You—you ride," he asked, shock still clear as day on his face. "Bikes? Yeah—," I paused to smile at him again before continuing. "Among other things," I finished, giving him a wink.

If he wasn't red before, he was damn sure red now. Bingo. I choked on a laugh as he very audibly cleared his throat. He then turned away and started rubbing his neck again. I must have really struck a nerve. I watched him turn to face me, still rubbing his neck, only to turn back around. I stifled another laugh. "Damn," I heard him mumble, followed by another one of his sexy chuckles. He finally turned to face me again, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Rick strode back through the door. Daryl promptly closed his mouth again. Shit.