Ok, sorry It took me a bit to get this up but I've been studying for my first EMS test and it was a very long study guide.

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Michonne was quiet and shehad always thought of herself as pretty subtle and she was no stranger to sneaking silently as a shadow through the woods...but Daryl had been born into this and he had heard her coming a mile away.

Dumb bitch. He slipped off the deer path he'd been following and melted into the thick underbrush of the forest and backtracked. She must have a death wish, followin' me out here like this...

Sure enough, not moments after that thought he saw her. She was folloing the deer path as he had been, her eyes searching the woods around her carefully. But not carefully enough. Daryl crept silently out from the bursh behind her and rose from his hunter's crouch to aim his crossbow between her shoulder blades. He let out a little sharpt whistle to announce his presence and she whipped around with wide eyes. But he didn't see a speck of fear in them, only surprise.

"You're a sneaky little son of a bitch aren't you, redneck?" she said with a sneer, her right hand relaxed it's grip on the handle of her katana and she took a more relaxed stance. Daryl's stance was anything but relaxed and he didn't lower his bow.

"What the hell are ya followin' me for, bitch?" he growled, his voice low and threatening.

"No reason to be uncivil," Michonne stated, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"Do I look like I'm jokin' to ya? What are you doing out here?" Daryl put on his most no-nonsense, 'I will shoot you if you don't speak up' expression and placed his finger threateningly on the trigger.

Michonne's mocking attitude changed immediately when she sensed the man wasn't kidding around and that he would shoot her without a second thought if he felt threatened. So she took a step back and raised her hands in a gesture of peace.

"Calm down there, Jed Clampett," she wanted to smack herself for throwing that last bit in because he was obviously in no joking mood. "I was following you because I want to talk to you."

"Well I don't wanna talk to you," Daryl said, his eyes never faltering from behind his arrow sight.

Michonne felt a tiny bit of anger bubble up in her stomach but she pushed it down as she sized this Dixon character up. He didn't look like the type to make enpty threats and his icy cold glare that he was giving her from behind the fletching of his arrow made her bite back another joking name.

"Fine then," she said quietly, trying to calm the man down as she took a slow step forward. She noticed how his shoulders seemed to straighten a tiny bit and she stopped her advance for a moment. "I'll just go back to the prison and leave you to whatever it was you were doing."

Daryl didn't speak, didn't nod, didn't give any sign he had heard her but she began a slow walk toward him again and he stepped slightly to the side as she approached, keeping her in front of him all the way. When she passed him, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Andrea says you don't like me."

"She's right."

Michonne decided that if she wanted to tame the beast that was Daryl Dixon, honesty was a good way to start.

"I don't blame you," she replied, turning to face him. She was only a few inches from the tip of his arrow but she met his eyes behind it with determination. Those angry, cobalt eyes that held so much behind them...she couldn't see a hint of emotion right now though with the exception of hatred.

"Don't blame me? That's an invitation to shoot you, lady," his voice was cold, but Michonne saw just a tiny, tiny crack in his armor and she decided to pick at it and break it down. Daryl Dixon was curious about her, she could see.

"I don't blame you for who you are," Michonne restated, the meaning completely changing. "You don't know me, don't trust me, don't want to know me...because you don't like my kind, do you?"

"Your kind?" Daryl's voice held a hint of insult, "That ain't got nothin' ta do with it!"

Perfect. He was letting his anger get the better of him.

"Oh please, I've met enough people like you to know when they're disgusted by me," Michonne was playing the victim role well, she knew as she saw the expression on his face alter minutely to accommodate a little bit of regret. "We're like toothpaste and orange juice, Dixon. We'll never mix well if we can't look past the outside."

Daryl's eyes lost a little bit of their chill and his grip on the crossbow loosened slighty, his cheek raising from the stock to get a better look at her. It was all she needed. Quick as a flash, Michonne grabbed the crossbow by the foot brace and pushed it up, affectively throwing Daryl off balance, while taking a big step forward causing him to step back into a tree. Michonne drew his buck knife before he could get his hand to it and she pressed it to his throat, pinning him to the tree.

"You've got anger issues, don't you, Dixon?" Michonne asked, not in a mean way, she just...said it. Daryl's eyes narrowed at her but he made no move to fight back and she was surprised by that.

"You gonna kill me now?" he asked, his voice sounded unconcerned. "Gotta say...you're a pretty tough bitch."

"I didn't come out here after you to kill you," Michonne said with a shrug, and to prove it was true she backed off, lowered the knife and released her hold on the crossbow. Daryl's eyes flashed with confusion. "I honestly just want to talk to you but you've got more prickles than a pissed off porcupine."

To her surprise, he didn't make an attempt to raise the crossbow or even reclaim his knife, he just stared at her, almost like he was trying to read her mind.

"Not a big fan of being stalked in the woods," he said finally. Michonne cocked her head and smiled slightly at the hint of humor she heard in his tone. She decided that she really liked his voice. It was quiet and soft, with just a hint of gruffness to it, his slow Georgia drawl made his words seem to drag on for longer than other people. Normally, when Michonne heard that kind of drawl she would avoid that person because in her lifetime she had come to find that most people who didn't accept her were the ones who sounded and looked like Daryl Dixon. He looked like the kind of guy who would hang a Rebel flag on his wall, truck, flagpole...

"I wasn't stalking you," she said finally, shaking her head slightly to rid herself of distracting thoughts. "I...heard what Andrea said to you."

"Yeah? You believe 'er?" Daryl didn't seemed too concerned what she thought about him really.

Michonne wasn't positive about that answer yet.

"I don't know," she admitted, "I need to get to know you better if I'm gonna make that judgement. Why shouldn't I believe her though?"

"Because it ain't fuckin' true," Daryl stated a little louder. "Maybe it was once...but this end of the world shit tends to change people sometimes."

"So are you telling me that my skin color doesn't affect your judgement of me in the least bit?" she prodded for the truth. The real truth.

Daryl fell completely silent, his face twitched in a funny sort of way that made him look like he was gonna fry his brain from thinking too hard. But eventually he hung his head slightly and sighed.

"Naw, I'd be lyin' if I said it didn't," he admitted, and he looked so ashamed that Michonne felt almost sorry for him. Almost.

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Aw, shit, now she really is gonna kill me.

But the woman's eyes didn't change and she made no move for any weapon, she just stood there and looked at him.

"I..." he tried to think of something to say to make his last staement better, but he couldn't.

"It's no big deal, Bo Duke," Michonne replied, cutting him off even though he had nothing further to state. "For the record, I think you're a racist hillbilly who probably can't read at a college level, owns a dozen shotguns, has stuffed deer heads everywhere on your walls and can't speak proper English."

Daryl scrunched his eyebrows together in a half annoyed/half amused glare.

"Wow, why don'tcha jus' say what ya really think?" he said, sarcasm dripping in his tone. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and leaned back into the tree, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Why don't you?" Michonne challenged.

"A'right," Daryl nodded, running his thumb along his bottom lip. "I think there's something about ya that ya don't want us to know. I don't think you're trustworthy and I don't feel safe with you in this group. You freak me out whenever you and Andrea disappear together somewhere because I honestly think you're gonna kill us off one by one."

Michonne found herself at a loss for words. She leaned back a bit to get a better look at this guy. He hadn't even mentioned anything about a stereotype, her gender, her race...nothing. Nothing that she had expected, and he hadn't screwed up the grammar either. Something told her there was more to Daryl Dixon than meets the eyes.

"If you can prove to me that you ain't intendin' on any o' that...then maybe I'll trust ya. But, for now, I'll be watching you."

And he grabbed her by the wrist, twisted slightly but not enough to hurt, and caught the handle of his buck knife as it fell from her grip. His eyes locked on hers for a moment, a silent threat plain to see, and then he walked off towards the prison with a confident strut.

"You've got some things to prove too, Dixon." Michonne said out loud to herself as she rubbed her wrist where her skin had an odd tingling sensation.

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There ya go! It's coming along slowly, trying to figure out how to build up the trust and attraction. We shall see what my mind does :)

Review with any ideas you may have. SERIOUSLY, guys...tell me some things you want to see! I'm not kidding.