Three Weeks Later…
Daryl thrived in the silence of the morning.
There were no cars, no helicopters, no inane human banter at five in the morning; his normal waking time. He could just sit in front of a lit fire and smoke a cigarette, do fucking nothing until the group began to rise from sleep.
He was doing the same thing right now, hunched in on his knees and staring at the beginning of embers at the bottom of the flames that were too small to be any good. He looked up abruptly when he heard some sort of slapping, seeing a hawk speeding across the quarry. He grunted and looked back to the fire, taking a puff from his cigarette and blowing the white smoke up into the air. After another moment of sitting silently, he flicked the cigarette into the fire and rubbed his face.
He looked over to the rest of the camp when he heard shuffling.
She was coming from her tent. the pale curve of her back facing him as she looked around camp. She was a skinny little thing, but she had gained weight since she had become a part of the group. Most of her bones still showed and her clothes fit her too loosely for Daryl's liking, but his opinion didn't really matter now, did it?
She looked towards the quarry, biting her chapped lip for a moment as she nodded to herself, pulling her hair back into a bun. Daryl knew even with a decent amount of weight on her, she would still have those sharp ass cheek bones and that pointy chin.
He watched her bend into her tent slowly, leaving that supple ass in view and licked his bottom lip, pushing himself to his feet. He grabbed his crossbow and slipped out of her view, into the brush and far away before he did something he would regret.
Her smooth legs sliced through the clear water, back bathed in the warm sunlight of morning. Her arms propelled her through the waves and she smiled, diving under until she touched bottom. She kicked against the slick bottom and shot through the surface, gulping in air with a smile on her face.
She felt fucking normal.
Even for the apocalypse, she had been in rough condition. But thanks to the women, and the rare exception of the men around here (Glenn), she was doing exceptionally better. She could just feel herself getting better – mentally, physically. The image was just a bonus.
She stepped out of the water, shivering a little as she wrung out her hair; she didn't notice the glint of the scope watching her. She grabbed a ragged, gray dress-thing from where she had draped it over a pile of rocks to get warm in the sun and wiggled it on, running her hands down her front. It was more of a long shirt, clinging in weird places, but until she got her turn to do laundry, this was all she had. She slipped her feet into her boots and started back towards camp, feeling a bit more chipper now that she was clean.
The women were up and gathered around a fire they were still building, yawning into their hands and wrapping their arms around their middles. They were mumbling amongst themselves and practically growled at Shane when he got too close. He had opened his mouth, as if to speak, but promptly closed it at the growling noises. He raised his hands and switched paths, headed towards the Jeep.
Marcine hesitated for a moment on the edge of camp, contemplating going over there but too afraid. She was never really a people person, never had been. Around groups of people, she got tongue tied and said stupid things. She hated being embarrassed in front of more than one person. She wished she could just go through camp without being drawn into the women's going-ons but there was no way she could avoid that gravitational pull.
This early in the morning, hell, they were like a black hole.
"Marcine, come join us, we have shitty coffee." Jacqui smiled at the young woman, holding a metal blue mug in the air.
Marcine smiled politely then shuffled over, sitting between Amy and her sister, Andrea. The older woman looked her up and down with approval, making Marcine almost want to growl at her. Andrea was not the nicest person and Marcine wished she had the nerve to tear her apart right there or even in private. But Marcine had. . .confrontation issues. It was either one extreme, or the other, never any middle ground for her. It used to get her in trouble in school, which was why she just started to keep to herself.
"So, Marcine?"
She looked up, face blank in thought. "Huh?" Damn, she was so smart.
Lori chuckled and took a sip from her coffee, cringing at the taste. "We were talking about why Daryl Dixon is staring at you so hard."
Marcine swallowed, fear slipping up her spine as she looked over her shoulder. There he was, meticulously cleaning his crossbow. She could see his bright blue eyes staring at her, from this angle it looked like he was glaring at her. She shivered and turned back to the fire, hands folded tightly in her lap.
"I don't know. . ." she mumbled.
"Well." Amy leaned back to cross her legs and leaned forward onto her knees. "Never seen him look at any of us like that."
A collective 'same here' echoed around the fire and everything got quiet. It made her feel like the odd one out, and that was never a good thing in any situation.
She looked up when she heard shuffling and saw Morales and his family head for the quarry. They looked so happy, like the world hadn't touched them, and Marcine helt her stomach churn. T-Dog reached over, appearing as if he came out of thin air, and grabbed the cup of coffee out of Jacqui's hand. She glared at him and reached into a large pack beside the log she was sitting on, pulling out another mug and pouring herself more coffee.
"That boy is gonna be th' death of me, I swear," she mumbled, leaning into her coffee.
"I was thinking of going over and talking to Daryl about training me with a weapon." Marcine mumbled.
Jacqui, Carol and Lori went completely silent while Amy made choking noises and Andrea jumped to her feet. "The fuck." She spat.
Marcine shrugged, looking up at her. "I just. . .do any of the other men know how to take care of themselves like he does?"
Looking around at the doubtful and fear filled face gave her the answer she was looking for. Lori cleared her throat and set her mug in the sand by her feet. "Honey. . . just don't think any of us think that's a good idea."
"Why? Because they seem like bad people?" Where was this defensiveness coming from? From her insane notion she was attracted to the perpetually-angry redneck in question? Perhaps. "You guys don't know if their bad people or not, they just might be misunderstood."
"Honey this is not high school, those are not just some punks," Jacqui scolded, her face creased in worry. "Those are full grown men with plans and wants, wants they have already displayed to us. They are not. . .trustworthy." She straightened her back. "They have made their mark on us."
Marcine leaned forward a little, some kind of aggression bubbling in her chest. "And what mark would that be? Not talking to any of you? Not being friendly? Is their acting like the world went to shit, which it did, bother you?"
Andrea hesitated and then twisted to crouch in front of Marcine, taking her shaky hands in her own. "Marcine . .the day they brought you in, the day they found you, Dale was keeping watch for anyone entering the quarry."
"Yeah?" Marine arched an eyebrow.
Andrea sighed heavily. "He could barely see them, but the Dixon's were walking up from the road and they had a girl with them. They all disappeared from view. . .Daryl came back quick enough, Marie came out a few minutes later taunting a female Walker. Thats what he said he saw, he swears. But we never found the girl or the supposed Walker. "Andrea swallowed, remembering the terror in Dales eyes.
Marcine pulled her hands away. "Merle." Her voice was shaky for some reason. "Not Daryl. . ."
Lori looked like she was about to burst. "But we don't know exactly what ha-"
"You know what happened, Lori." Andrea whispered, looking over her shoulder then back to Marcine. "They. . .they're not good people, ok? Please think more about this decision before you go out there, asking them to take you alone away from us."
"We need someone to go into the city." Shane interrupted, raising an eyebrow to Andrea.
She looked up at him and sighed. "Well, I'm willing to go."
Lori stood, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Shane, I don't think that would be okay right now."
He sighed, rubbing his face. "And why wouldn't it be," he mocked. Well, sort of.
Marcine stood and wondered back to her tent, falling onto her bedroll with a heavy sigh. It was starting to heat up in the tent, the air thick with humidity. She rolled onto her back, arms spread at her sides. She was so hungry right now, but there was no way she going over to Shane and asking for a dip in the food supply. They were running low on canned and bagged food, they were almost solely relying on the Dixons for nourishment. Marcine never realized how good squirrel was until now; of course, she never thought you could eat it, what with the diseases carried by small mammals and such. . .
She lay there for awhile, Andreas words going around in her head. They were scary, sure, but only one person can claim they killed someone. He didn't go get anyone else immediately? Ludicrous. And yeah, maybe she was dumb for her own reasoning but she didn't get along with Shane, Dale or that weird guy in the jumpsuit. The girls smothered her enough as it was. Anyone else in the camp, she hardly talked to them, so how could she randomly ask for all of this help she needed?
She rolled onto her side, staring across to a large trash bag full of musty clothes. She didn't even know how to wash clothes like a survivor, dear Lord.
She shot up, back straight and she peeked out of the tent, towards the Dixon camp. Daryl was still hunched over his crossbow but Merle had come from his tent; when he saw her peeking, he grinned sickly at her and she bit her tongue. She could see the bag in his hand, saw him pull out something small and knock it back, taking a sip from a half-full whiskey bottle. Marcine licked her lips, pushing herself forward.
What are you doing?
I'm surviving.
By walking into the hornets nest, no deal.
What if they don't sting?
Oh, they most certaintly will.
Her adrenaline was pumping on full, her tiny fists curled at her sides. She passed T-Dog and Glenn, who eyed her curiously. Passed Shane and Lori, who were too curled up in their own argument to bother her with a glance. Past the gaggle of women, who she heard gasp. Why gasp? It was so cliché.
When she stopped beside Daryl, he simply froze, but Merle leered grossly. She didn't feel that shiver of disgust or fear trickle across her spine, she felt nothing. Daryl looked up when she said nothing and for a moment, she got caught in those eyes.
Too deep, too beautiful, to belong to a monster.
"What," he asked, voice gruff.
She swallowed hard, almost painfully. "Teach me what you know," she said, barely above a whisper.
He could have taken it in any direction, but he knew what she wanted, and scoffed. "Hell nah, you couldn't handle it."
"Yes I can! I can handle anything you would throw at me. I need to learn and them over there. . .it just doesn't seem a fair -"
He looked up at her. "Hell. No," he bit out.
"Aw, c'mon lil brother." Marcine felt a heavy arm drape over her shoulders. "Let's go teach the lil miss how to handle 'erself."
"Merle," Daryl said in a warning tone.
His eyes were sharp, suffocating, so was that arm wrapped around her. She felt suffocated, like she was gonna pop, like she was already staring over the edge. There was no turning back if he said yes. No turning back from what, she wasn't quite sure, hadn't grasped the situation yet. She didn't notice the look in Merle's eyes, didn't notice the way Daryl's eyes raked over her, his prize, and she sure as hell didn't notice the way Shane was ready to blow both Dixons heads off.
Marcine cleared her throat though. "Now dammit, you need to show me how to handle myself. Please, I don't care what it is. Teach me, I. . .I need to know how to do this. I can't live in this world the way I am and I don't want to die, not yet."
He stared at her, ice blue eyes flickering between her face and his brothers. It was like he and his brother were having a quick conversation, checking off things on an imaginary list. Marcine could feel the tension, smell the testosterone.
"Fuck," Daryl sighed, standing and looking her up and down, appraising her. "We start tomorra. . ."
How's everyone feeling about this so far?
