Lots of Daryl in this chapter to make up for his absence in the last one.

Chapter 10 - Smarts

The afternoon was hot and sticky, so Hershel was in the relative cool of the infirmary, flicking through a book on herbal remedies.

"Hershel!" came Glenn's call as he approached the block. "Hershel, you in here?"

The older man responded in the affirmative from where he was sitting at one of the two tables by the entrance.

Glenn appeared through the doors supporting a limping Daryl. "Needs stitches." he panted from the effort of supporting the bigger man.

Hershel could see a blood-soaked strip of cloth wrapped around Daryl's thigh, and a trail of blood staining all the way down his pants-leg.

"Oh dear." he remarked, pushing himself to his good foot with the help of his crutches. "What's happened?"

"Just a scratch climbin' out a window on the run just now. Said I'm fine!" grunted Daryl.

Glenn followed Hershel's direction and dragged Daryl to the nearest bed, laying him down. "It's not just a scratch. He ripped it open on broken glass while covering us from walkers."

"Thank you, Glenn, I'll take over."

Glenn nodded and patted his father-in-law on the shoulder. "He's all yours. Good luck. He's grouchier than normal when he's in pain." Glenn delivered the last comment in a stage whisper, throwing a cheeky grin at Daryl, who just huffed in response.

Hershel dropped himself heavily onto the nearest chair. "Tahlia!" he called out. "Tahly, you've got your first patient!"

"What?!" Daryl sat up. "Nuh-uh! I ain't bein' a guinea pig!"

Tahlia appeared from the adjoining room, drying her hands on a clean cloth and glanced down at Daryl's leg, then grinned at him. "Hello sir, I'm Dr. Wilkins and I'll be performing your amputation today." she joked.

Daryl dropped back onto the pillow, placing a forearm over his eyes, not in the mood for her or her humour. "Ya gotta be shittin' me."

"Don't worry, her suturing has really improved. You're in excellent hands." Hershel reassured the grumbling man.

Approaching the bed, Tahlia leaned over his leg to have a quick first look. "Alright. Whip your pants off for me, Dixon."

Daryl immediately shoved at her. "Naw! Not happenin!"

Tahlia gave him a devilish grin. "I'm sure you don't have anything down there that I haven't seen before." She started to carefully lift the cloth that was stemming the blood flow, exposing the clotting gash and the top of his thigh, then suddenly looked up at him with mock-horror on her face. "Or do you?!"

"If you're gonna make this weird, I'd rather bleed to death." snapped Daryl, giving her a severe glare.

Tahlia chuckled and held the strip of material over the wound while she reached for a pair of scissors from the table next to the bed, and efficiently cut around the leg of his pants just above the wound, exposing his thigh area. "Alright, alright, keep your pants on."

"Looks nasty, Daryl." commented Hershel from his seat. "Tahly - clean the area, antiseptic, then stitch."

Brandishing a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, Tahlia wrinkled her nose apologetically. "This is gonna hurt. Want something to bite down on?"

"Just get it over with." said Daryl through gritted teeth.

With hands already slick from his blood, Tahlia mopped up the excess as best as she could, revealing the 5-inch jagged gash running across the side of his thigh, then poured some of the antiseptic onto a clean cloth pad jamming it down across the open wound. Daryl bucked violently with the shock of pain, a ferocious growl bursting from him. He gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath as it eased off, and gave her a pointed look.

"Bet ya enjoyed that."

Tahlia feigned wide-eyed innocence. "My only enjoyment comes from helping people." she said solemnly, but couldn't help the smile tugging on the corners of her lips. "Now hold this." she placed his hand onto of the cloth on the wound, while she cleaned the blood around his leg, trying not to focus on his thick, muscular thigh.

"It's not that deep, actually. Not as bad as it looks." She threaded a large needle, and with a quick glance at Hershel – who nodded encouragingly at her – she carefully pushed the edges of the wound together and started to stitch.

With interest, Daryl watched as deftly but gently, she sewed the flesh back together. Unintentionally, his eyes wandered over her slender arms, her tanned shoulders, and up to her pretty face, where a look of intense concentration had settled in her green eyes, and she was repeatedly sucking one side of her bottom lip into her mouth, then releasing it by dragging back out through her teeth, leaving it wetter and redder every time. He found himself staring at her mouth, mesmerised by the sensual action until suddenly, her eyes flicked up to his, and Daryl swallowed guiltily, quickly averting his gaze.

"All done." she smiled. "Hershel?"

The vet leaned over, and nodded approvingly. "Nicely done. Just clean again, then bandage. Good work. And Daryl-" he eyed the hunter pointedly. "No walking on that today. You'll tear the stitches clean out." With that, he pushed himself up heavily, and limped back over to his book.

Daryl rolled his eyes at the instruction, then continued to watch as Tahlia cleaned the area again, then applied a bandage over the top of his wound.

"Erm... you're probably going to need a new pair of pants." She indicated the completely cut trouser leg.

"Got another pair in my cell." He made to push himself off the bed, but Tahlia stopped him.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"To put some damn pants on!"

"Uh, did you not just hear the boss? No walking on that today. Let me help you." She made to grab hold of him, but he pushed her away.

"Naw. Don't need your help."

Tahlia put her hands on her hips, and gave him a pointed stare. "Daryl Dixon, you stubborn mule. Either you let me help you move around, or you're gonna lie here in this bed for the rest of the day. Those are your options - pick one. Coz I am not stitching you up again today just coz of your pride."

Daryl scowled at the telling off, but lifted his arm up. "Alright." he muttered. "Help me to my cell."

"Great!" With a cheery smile, Tahlia hitched his arm over her shoulder and pulled him up, knowing full well he'd be hating her for this. "Let's go."

Reluctantly, he leaned on her, every muscle in his body tensing up as her arm wound around his waist. He was trying to lean away from her, but it was pretty much impossible, and he couldn't help but breathe in her scent – immediately he thought of honeysuckle and sunshine, and was instantly thrown down memory lane, straight into the Georgian backwoods of his childhood which left him reeling, heart racing. It was a slow journey to his cell, and he was thankful when they finally arrived and he dropped on to the bed, desperate to put some distance between them.

"So, I can leave you here, or I can help you outside. You just need to rest your leg for the afternoon – maybe you wanna go sit under the maple in the garden?"

He thought for a minute. He didn't want her near him any more today, but he really didn't want to sit in this gloomy old cell either. "Alright. I'ma change my pants then maybe take me outside."

Tahlia nodded brightly. "Ok, I'll be right back to get you." She disappeared from view, but Daryl waited a bit longer before judging it safe to remove his pants.

A while later, he could see Tahlia's shadow outside the privacy sheet hanging across his cell door.

"You decent?" she called, popping her head in through the door after she heard his grunt of assent. "Taxi's here!"

Daryl gave her a questioning look as she helped him up from the bed once more, through his cell door, to the wheelbarrow that she'd brought up from the garden.

"Your chariot."

"Uh-uh!" he shrank back. "I ain't sittin' in that thing!"

"Come on." she rolled her eyes. "You're too damn heavy for me to be carrying around. This will be easier. And also fun! I'd love to be wheeled around in a barrow all afternoon."

He rolled his eyes back at her. "Course you would. But I ain't nothin' like you." he said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why are you such a buzzkill all the time? Would it kill you to loosen up a little? You think that people are gonna think you're not so tough if you momentarily lower the drawbridge to your fortress? You think-"

"Alright!" roared Daryl, giving in just to get her to shut up – which, he realised too late, had been her objective. Giving her a hard stare for a long moment, he finally shook his head in annoyance. "Goddamn, if you ain't the biggest pain in the ass I ever met."

"Aw, thank you, honey." she smiled sweetly as she helped him into the wheelbarrow.

As his legs swung over the edge of the barrow, Daryl rubbed at his temples in irritation, wondering how the hell he ended up in this predicament. At least it was preferable to having her tucked right up against him.

Tahlia pushed him down to the gardens, and rolled to a stop underneath the maple tree. "Here?"

"Yeah, this'll do." he muttered as she pulled him to standing. He settled in the grass, his back against the rough bark of the beautiful tree. He could barely hear the moaning of the walkers beyond the fence today, and staring out over the garden they had cultivated filled him with a sense of peace. This wasn't so bad after all.

"Ok, I'll come back and get you in a couple of hours, yeah?"

He just grunted as she sauntered back up the hill.

As Tahlia walked away, she couldn't keep the smile from her face as she wondered if she might finally be making some progress with him. Obviously, he had hated that she was the one to help him, and she thought he might have been ready to kill her when she'd suggested the wheelbarrow - but he'd gotten in (she snickered to herself at that), and he hadn't even shouted at her (yet), and he had actually let her put her arm around him. And damn if that hadn't felt good. His body was so muscular and solid, she'd had to stop herself from getting a little carried away in a steamy daydream. But all X-rated thoughts aside, she couldn't help but glow a little at their brief interaction. There was just something about him, and despite his hostility towards her, she still hoped that she'd get to spend a little more time with him.

A couple of hours later, Tahlia returned to the tree, as promised. Her steps slowed as she noted Daryl lying on his back, arms thrown above his head, fast asleep and snoring softly. His face had an open, innocent look as he slept, and she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in delight as she watched him. As she got closer, she was surprised to see a few pieces of paper strewn around his legs. It looked like the sketch pad on his lap had slipped, spilling its contents on the grass - beautiful pencil drawings of the woods and animals. She stifled an impressed gasp – she hadn't pegged him for an artist, painting a few cartoon characters on rocks with Eleanor hardly counted – but he was clearly very talented.

"Hey, princess." she said softly, nudging his leg with her foot.

"What the-?" his eyes flew open and he sat up like a shot. The first thing he saw was his artwork lying around him, and he snatched the pages up roughly, quickly shoving them inside his bag, cheeks aflame. "Goddammit!" he cursed. "Ya gotta sneak up like that?!"

"You were deep in the land of nod, sugar. It's getting on in the avo, best we get you back up to the cellblock."

He shot a brief glance up at her, hoping like hell she hadn't seen his drawings. It was something he was deeply private about. But she was staring out at the woods, no indication that she'd noticed anything.

"Just walk up. Leg's fine." he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

"Of course."

Before he could protest, she'd slid under his arm and hooked hers around his waist again, and although his body jerked at the contact, instead of pushing her away like he had meant to, he found himself leaning his weight onto her shoulder, just trying not to breathe her in.

As they arrived at the courtyard, Tahlia deposited Daryl down at one of the picnic tables.

"Ok, so make yourself useful. You can help me with dinner prep."

"Ugh." huffed Daryl. "Naw."

Tahlia propped her hands on her hips. "Well, it's that, or you can go down to the troughs and help Carol and Karen with the washing.

Daryl pursed his lips as he tried to decide if washing clothes or spending even more time with this cheery girl was more unappealing. He heaved a tortured sigh. "Alright, help ya with dinner."

"Great!" she said, then disappeared for a bit, returning with two large hare and a bucket of vegetables.

"Please can you deal with these?" She held the dead animals out to him. "I'm no good at it. And I don't like doing it."

He looked at her in surprise. "Huh." Daryl could skin and gut an animal in his sleep, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to him. "Why ya doin' the medical stuff with Hershel then if ya don't like cuttin' stuff up?"

Tahlia settled herself on the opposite side of the table, and started to chop the vegetables. "I don't mind chopping up people." she replied with a grin, not wanting to tell Daryl that she also spent a lot of time with Hershel because she enjoyed being in his presence, he felt a bit like a father figure, and she found it comforting. "Also, I prefer animals alive rather than dead."

"You eat 'em, doncha?"

She looked a little shamefaced at that. "Yeah. I know. Hypocrite, right? If there were more takeout options available right now then I probably wouldn't."

Daryl just looked at her like she was a little crazy.

They sat in silence for a long while, each concentrating on the task at hand. Daryl's gut was churning, but he couldn't quite understand why. It was almost like she made him uncomfortable, but it was something more than that. He was starting to get irritated and with narrowed eyes, kept sneaking glances up at her. Stupid privileged girl making him feel out of place in his own group.

From across the table, Tahlia did her best to keep chopping and not pay attention to Daryl who was clearly gearing himself up to ask her something and getting antsier by each passing minute. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to tell him just to spit it out.

Finally, he spoke up. "Ya used to live in Japan?"

That was not the conversation starter she'd expected, and there was a hostile note in his tone that made her wary. "Uh, yeah. Just for 6 months, when I was a teenager."

Daryl narrowed his eyes. He didn't know anyone who'd even travelled outside of the States before. "Speak Japanese?"

"Used to know a bit. Probably pretty rusty now, haven't used it in a while."

"Other languages?"

She eyed him curiously. "A little French, but again, probably pretty rusty by now. No good to me out there-" She gestured vaguely towards the woods. "Only thing those walkers understand is ugghhhhhhh-ugghhhhhh." She imitated their groans as best as she could with a lopsided grin.

Ignoring her attempt at a joke, Daryl carried on, barely able to conceal his animosity. "Guessin' ya went to college too?

Tahlia wasn't sure where these questions were going, but by the hard glint in his eye she figured that the almost amicable rapport that they had built earlier had now gone up in smoke, and they were headed down a road that was definitely not leading anywhere good, so she kept her answers as brief as possible. "Yes, I did..."

"Got some kind of fancy-ass degree?" He was aware of the scorn dripping from his words, but he couldn't pull it back.

"Just a regular-ass kind of degree."

"Damn." he gave a harsh laugh, stabbing his knife into the table as a sudden wave of bitterness surged inside him. "Rich, smart-ass college girl huh. Figures. Must hate being stuck around a poor, piece o'shit redneck like me who ain't never even made it through high school."

She fixed him with a look that made him feel like she was looking right inside him, and subconsciously, he pressed a fist over his heart protectively.

"You think all that shit makes me smarter than you?" she asked softly, curiously.

Daryl bit his lip. Dammit, why had he even said anything? He hadn't meant to, hadn't intended to let his insecurity show through – he hated talking about how smart other people were because it made him feel his own perceived lack of smarts even more keenly. It was just this confusing tangle of feelings inside him. Like he wanted to be as far away from her as possible, but then when she was near, he wanted to keep it that way. And he felt so inferior around her, so disdainful of her privileged, easy life and her infuriating blithe nature; yet she kept appearing unbidden in his mind and he found that he was curious about her, wanted to know her better. And then there was the weird feeling when she touched him – like he didn't hate it.

She spoke again. "Book-smarts is just one tiny bit. What about all the other pieces?"

He stared at her blankly.

She leaned a little closer, her voice low, as she ticked the list off on her fingers. "You also got survival-smarts – people who are resourceful and can look after themselves, instead of rolling over and dying at the first sign of trouble. You got fix-it-smarts – people who are good at making things, fixing things, sorting things out. You got heart-smarts – people who are good at figuring others out, reading situations, who have a high emotional intelligence. And you got art-smarts – people who are creative and express themselves through different mediums. Book-smarts is the least useful of all of those. You're totally screwed if that's all you got. And from where I'm sitting, Daryl Dixon, you got at least all of the others, and that's a pretty rare thing." Standing up she tucked her pot of vegetables under one arm, and pressed the fingers of her other hand lightly to his cheek. "Don't sell yourself short."

Jerking his face away, Daryl glared at her. "Ya talkin' shit girl! Ya don't even know me!"

A misty look settled on her face, and she gave him a tiny perceptive smile. "Don't need to know you. I can see it in you from a mile away."

Daryl sat frozen in his seat as she walked away, the imprint of her fingers still burning into his skin, an unpleasant mix of emotions rising in his chest. He'd never considered himself to be anything but worthless, and he'd certainly never been called smart before. Compliments were hard for him to stomach at the best of times - Lord knows he hadn't had many of them in his life - then this practical stranger just starts spouting some shit like she knew him, and now she'd made him feel like this.

Self-conscious, laid bare, uncomfortable.

Anger simmered inside him and his chest tightened in discomfort. Who the hell did she think she was, just saying stuff like that? Crazy bitch. He'd known it from the get go.

And, to top it off, there was one more thing.

She'd obviously seen his drawings.

A/N: Forgive me for putting Daryl in a wheelbarrow! :D