This is pretty much just an edited – revised – version of the chapter from The Divide.

A/N: Thank you kazzibee for the review, it made me so happy and you are the kind of reader that makes me want to keep writing.


Marcine had never been good with being alone.

She sighed and pushed herself up and out of her tent, rubbing her arms as she walked around the small fire that was still burning. She looked around the camp, wondering who had last been up, and she sat on one of the logs Shane and the others had rolled up here. She could feel some of the dew seeping through the fabric of her dress-thing and shivered a little, poking at the fire in front of her.

It didn't grow.

"Th' hell ya doin up so late?"

She looked up, startled and heart hammering in her chest. Daryl was standing above her, his scruffy face formed into an almost permanent sneer, crossbow slung over his shoulder. He was so intimidating, especially when she couldn't really get a good look at him.

"Well I uh…I couldn't sleep," was all she could manage, which was the truth. She gained a bit of a back bone and looked him fully in the eye. "What are you doing up so late?"

He grunted and actually sat beside her, close enough so she felt his body heat; it was strong and heavy. "Neva sleep," he mumbled, leaning his crossbow against the log between them.

She caught his eyes in the faint glow of the dying fire, saw those icy orbs raking over her, taking her in dangerously. It made her shiver, made him grunt but he couldn't know why she was shaking. Or did he? He actually looked, in this moment, like the man that the others had warned him about yesterday. He looked like a predator, hunched in on himself and examining her.

"Where's your brother," she asked, wanting to distract him.

It did the trick; but judging by the look in his eye, it was the wrong kind of distraction. "Don' know, don't care."

"But he's your brother." She cocked her head to the right; he noted the thick wave of black hair that fell over her face.

His eyes snapped to hers as she brushed it back from her face, his eyes livid and almost glowing, like a jungle cats. "Don' worry bout him."

She felt her temple flare. "Why the hell did you come here is you were gonna be a jackass," she growled.

He stared at her for a long moment, glaring at her dangerously. She felt like a moron, she really, really did. She had never acted so gruffly. But, he just made her so damn angry so easily. How the hell could he just walk over here and act like that, expect her to just go along with his attitude?

He chuckled.

It was dark and it scared her a little.

But when did he not scare her a little or a lot? Just being near him sent those chills up her spine.

"Feisty lil one ain' cha?" He stood, swaying as he grabbed a hold of his crossbow. "Guess ya ain't the princess Merle thought ya was."

He started to walk away and she still stared at him with her mouth agape, like a fish. When he was starting to get too far away, she jumped to her feet and jogged towards him. She grabbed a hold of his upper arm, squeezing hard enough for her nails to break skin. She could feel the tan flesh give way, felt the blood leak under her nails but he didn't seem fazed by it and neither did she. Marcine noticed the small devil beside her hand, wondering why she hadn't noticed it before. It's wings were spread and its mouth was open, almost like it was grinning at her.

She jerked her hand away, cradling it in her other hand as she slowly looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. She hadn't meant to do that, but he couldn't just walk away.

He seemed to be bringing out her worst impulses.

"Th' fuck ya want now?"

She looked up to meet his eyes, trying to find the fear clogging her throat. She felt like she was choking but knew she was fine; sort of. "I. . .did you meant it. I mean, when you said you would help me?"

He nodded. "Merle and I, we help ya tomorrow."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you Daryl," she whispered.

He stared at her with slightly widened eyes, like he was surprised to hear a thank you from anyone. Then he growled and stomped away, back towards his side of the camp.


She wasn't quite sure what time it was.

Didn't care.

She felt amazing.

You're evil.

I know I'm evil.

It was nothing new, she got it from her mother.

A blissful smile on her lips, she twisted in the palm of his hand.

Evil.

"Mine…"

Yours…


What the fuck was wrong with him?

He shouldn't have agreed to help that bitch.

He didn't care if she died, didn't care if she was eating alive, tortured until dead.

He grumbled and jerked his knife through the squirrels abdomen rather roughly, even for him, letting entrails squish against the toes of his boots. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw her sitting between the two blonde sisters, not smiling, just staring and nodding occasionally while the two women laughed around her.

She didn't want to be over there, but she had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

She wanted to leave but she didn't want to die.

That was her thing, she didn't want to die.

Most of the time Daryl thought about death, what a sweet pleasure it would be to just not have to deal with this world anymore. He had never really wanted to be here in the first place, Ma always called him a mistake, a drunken one at that. He always hated her, his Pa as well. But, his Ma was an angel compared to that sadistic bastard. She was a sort-of God send, at least when she was around, his Pa didn't come after young Daryl.

For the first time in forever, Daryl felt a strip of fear lick up his spine, dig it's nasty claws in and secure itself.

Daryl didn't get scared, he never got jumpy or stupid, he prided himself on being stoic and calm, collected ya know? Lately he had been getting this way, for about a week or two now, he hadn't been the same. Merle hadn't changed, still got fucked up when he could, still passed out in the sand when he wanted to, but he was having to slow down on his supplies thanks to this whole apocalypse thing. He was starting to suffer withdrawal more often. Suffer was the correct term and it was something Daryl thought he deserved and laughed at. His brother was full of shit and Daryl was always angry with him. Always.

Like right now, when Merle was dangerously close to slumping into the fire Daryl had just made.

"Merle," Daryl snapped, kicking up dust at him.

Merle grumbled and sat up, eyes still closed. "Ya need ta get laid lil brother," he mumbled, reaching up to scratch at his belly.

Daryl grabbed a firm hold of the squirrels fur and jerked down, leaving it to hang like looking like a newborn, hairless and wet with blood. "Ya bought to fall into my fire, gonna put it out," he grumbled, using his knife to cut the squirrel down, the fur draped over the edge of their log; of course, he didn't deny needing to get laid.

"Where that fine bitch?" Merle broke the silence.

Daryl went silence for a moment before he cleared his throat a little and started to cut the squirrel into bite sized pieces. "She jus' got up, should be over here soon enough."

Merle smiled a slick smile, the one he always had on really and swayed for a moment. "I got a few things I can teach 'er and it ain' got nothing to do with surviving. . ."

"Ain' lettin ya near her Merle," Daryl growled. "Don' need the whole camp comin down on us. I ain't got the patience to deal with them."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Merle waved a hand and swayed to his feet, groaning as he leaned back slightly.

He swayed back too far and stumbled a little, catching himself before he hit the dirt. He chuckled to himself and stumbled into his tent. Daryl rolled his eyes when he heard his brother hit the ground and strung up a piece of the squirrel on a stick, securing it in the ground before he folded one leg beneath himself. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He packed them with the palm of his hand, looking back to where she was walking towards her tent. She stopped for a moment, looking over at him.

When she saw him, she seemed scared.

He snickered as she dove into her tent, pulling a cigarette from the pack with his teeth. He cupped his palm over the flame of his lighter and inhaled deeply, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the bright blue sky. There wasn't a fucking cloud up there, nothing but the hot fucking sun.

He didn't want to go out there with this girl.

Alone.

He wasn't ready.

The only thing he wanted to do with her was bend her over and dominate her, like a fucking dog. That was all she was good for, that was all most women were good for. She needed to be fucked, grabbing his arm like that, needed to be dominated.

He raised his arm closer to his eyes, seeing the crimson half moons in the black and brown grime. He shook his head and lowered his arm, taking a quick drag from his cigarette. He sighed out the smoke, scratching the back of his head. Strangely enough, he felt like he needed a shower. He probably should get one with all the cuts on him. Didn't need them fucking getting infected. He didn't want to die from something like that, he wanted to die by a shot in the head at least.

At his own hands.

He justified it as his life, he was the only one that should be able to take it.

No walker or other human would be the one to do that.


"What are you thinking of?"

"The cold."

"Of course."

"It's all around us," her eyes blurred and she rubbed them with her knuckles. "All I see is white…"


She hesitated on the edge of her tent, wondering whether or not this was a good idea. She lifted a hand up, wrapping it around her throat, knees rubbing together as though she had to pee. Her boots were chaffing her ankles because of her nervousness. She could hear a few of the women murmuring, the curiosity spreading like wild fire.

She should have left this camp when she had the chance.

The moment she had woken up that morning, the women had been bitching at her, begging her not go over there, to not go into the woods with them. But of course, she was going to go, but she is scared. Not because of what the women said, not because of the Dixons, but because she was afraid she would never learn and that this would be a big waste of time.

"Why are you going over there, Marcine?"

She looked over her shoulder at Glenn, who was staring at her with those beady, concerned, eyes. She sighed and tucked a strand of free hair behind her ear. "Because I need help Glenn, I need to be tough for this world and this is my only option."

"No it isn't, Marcine." He stepped up at her side. "You don't need to be as tough as them, you can be just the way you are. No one is judging you."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "You think that's why I'm doing this," she scoffed. "Because I care about whether or not the group sees me as useful or not? No, this is about me. I know I can't survive without being tough in this world."

"So you think you have to be like them?" She was surprised he didn't growl at her.

"If. . ." she looked down, wrapping her arms around her middle. "If that's what it takes, then yes."

"It's a mistake, Marcine."

"Don't come back."

Marcine looked over at Shane. He had his hands on his hips and was staring at her with a glare she would have normally shied away from. She just stared at him. A few group members were looking at her with concern, a few showed disdain.

"You have to be joking," she whispered.

He shook his head, no concern in those eyes. No sympathy for what was coming to her. "No, I'm not. Those people over there," he pointed past her. "They are not people I want anyone in my group to associate with. I know what they've done and I don't even think they should be breathing let alone supplying our food."

"But that's the thing – they are supplying you with food and you are so willing to say they're worth more dead than alive."

Shane waved a hand at her. "I simply do not care, they can cut us off whenever they want to. I don't trust them and I don't trust anyone that goes near them so willingly. If you want them to help you so much, go over there and don't. come. back."

She stared at him in disbelief. His group? And no one was offended by the way he was just throwing her out, no one was offended by the way he claimed them as his, a right he had no claim to in the first place.

She looked over at the Daryl and Merle's side of camp, saw Daryl griping at the open tent flap of Merle's tent, waving his arms around everywhere. Was it really worth it? Was learning how to take care of herself worth pretty much giving herself to the Dixon brother?

She looked back down at her feet, looking up with a tired look on her sharp face.

"Can I at least get the tent?"

"No," Shane growled. "I'm sorry but we need it for Amy and Andrea. Looks like you're sharing a tent with one of those filths." He swallowed thickly and turned around, stomping back towards his camp like a pissed pup.

Glenn still looked at her with those fucking eyes. "Marcine. . .

She shook her head softly. "No, Glenn."

She liked Glenn, she really did, but there was this little black monster in the back of her head that was telling her that he needed to mind his own damn business. She wasn't a concern of his but it made her feel sort of special, that someone actually cared enough to warn her.

"Ya fuckin' mor –" Daryl stopped abruptly when he noticed her a few feet beside him.

The glare he leveled her with was icy, but she didn't shy away. She had to be tough and dealing with him would be a great start. "I'm uh. . .I'm ready when you are."

He grunted and pointed into the tent flat, glaring into a space she couldn't see into. "I ain' done withcha."

Merle peeked his head out of the open tent flap, grinning at Marcine; she only smiled softly. "Well hey there girly!"

"Hi Merle," she mumbled.

He still scared the bejeezus out of her.

The first day she had met him was terrifying and she wished it hadn't happened but honestly. . .she hated to admit this, even to herself, but it gave her some sort of sick thrill. She had never felt something like that before, had never had a man treat her that way. Now she understood that whole 'bad boy' thing her friends talked about. She always thought they were stupid or it was nothing but stupid teenage bullshit.

"Well, what are we waiting fer?" He pushed out of the tent, standing fully and looming over her by a head and a half.

She watched him and Daryl stalk past her with hunched shoulders, feeling like she was following some primal beasts.


"You did what!?"

Lori seethed at Shane, chest to chest with him and as thoroughly intimidating as him with that wild look in her eyes; she was over protective over this stranger.

He swallowed slowly and took a small step back. But of course, she followed that step and was against him again. "Lori I don't want her or them –"

"Shane, what if they do hurt her, huh? What if they rape her, torture her? What if they fucking kill her?!"

Shane did consider that, he honestly did, before he even thought about saying anything to her. "Lori, I think if she wants to go over there willingly despite every warning we have given her, then she belongs over there."

Lori still glared at him, but he could see her dying down. She had reservations about that woman ever since they took her in. She thought Marcine was crazy, sure; bitch was coated head-to-toe in blood when the Dixons brought her, her whole pack was soaked through. And it wasn't Walker blood. Too fresh, not congealed enough, no clots. It was human. Shane didn't trust the woman, didn't want her anywhere near his people. Most of the men were on his side, even that old fucker Dale was on the same page, and he didn't want her near the children. She needed to be with the Dixons, with those filth that insisted on provoking everyone else in the group every chance they got.

"Shane, if she gets hurt. . ." her eyes were still bright, but her edge was dying down. "I swear, you are going to regret it."