Chapter 2

February

He was running, but the walkers were everywhere. This was a bad supply run, one of the worst. Rick would be sorely disappointed. But their people needed medicine- it was the only reason he had taken so many risks today. Goddamn it, where was Glen? Two people were lost already. He could smell the death right behind him; getting closer, closer...

He woke up with a snap, inhaling sharply. That same goddamn dream he'd had for years. The details would vary; sometimes it was outside of Atlanta, in an abandoned prison, or even some ridiculously picturesque small town. But the main idea was the same; he was a hero. He had a whole group of people who relied on him, trusted him. Some even loved him. 'I'm a fucking retard' he thought to himself wistfully, rubbing his grimy hands over his eyes. He sat up and stretched, his joints cracking into place. His mattress lay on the floor, so he slipped on his pants from their pile on the carpet.

He'd made it to the kitchen, and was pouring instant coffee into the same stained mug he used every day, when there was knock at the door. Since he'd lost his job, the people who it might be were limited. He'd moved in with Merle about a month ago. But two weeks later Merle had gotten arrested on his warrant; so it wasn't him. Uncle Jess lived a good 30 minutes away- and would have called him first before showing up. It was probably the landlord. Merle rented a trailer on the back end of some land owned by some dude named Steve. Apparently he had been in the service with Merle, and he let them stay there for cheap. But now that Merle was gone, he was pretty sure he was about to get the boot.

"Yeah, I'm cummin'!" He shouted. He looked down at himself; dirty, half awake, and his pants weren't even zipped. It hit him all at once; a tightening in his chest, and a feeling of emptiness that spread across his body like a wave. He decided he didn't even care anymore. Spring was almost here; he could be homeless again for a while. He threw open the door. The wind howled in, bringing a little wet along with it.

"Oh!" Came a startled little voice from the bottom step. A woman's voice. "That was quick. Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you?"

He noticed her eyes first. Huge brown eyes, like a doe. Then her hair- it was long and flowed like waves with the wind, the early morning sun lighting up subtle auburn highlights along the brown strands. And she was smiling at him. Who the hell ever smiled at him? It was unnerving.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Dixon?" She was still smiling. "May I come in? I'm not normally so insistent, but to be frank, I'm about to freeze my tits off out here."

He ran his hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He stepped back and she walked in, blowing on her hands to warm them. "You here about Steve?"

"Steve Wilkerson? No, I'm here about Daryl Dixon. That's you, right?" She turned and faced him. She took him in, and decided he looked like a stray dog; dirty, broken, and sad as hell. His arms crossed over his chest, his eyes on the floor. He nodded, his eyes darting up just a little. "How would you feel about a job?"

He shot her a glare. "What? What ya' mean?"

"Sorry, I'm Marion Atwell. I live about a quarter mile from here, if you take that little deer trail behind your trailer." She leaned against the fridge door, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Merle was supposed to do some work for me, but it appears that he up and got himself arrested."

"It ain't his fault- it's that stupid gang of his." He noted that had come out way harsher then he had meant it to, but nobody was going to talk about it brother that way. Even if they smelled like lavender.

She unzipped the jacket she wore and adjusted the lapels. "I meant no offence Daryl. I was just trying to make light of a serious subject. I apologize. Do you want me to go?"

He looked at her through his lowered lashes. God damn it she was beautiful. She had on a white tank top that showed off the tops of her breasts, and her low slung jeans curved perfectly around her hips. What fresh hell was this? "No. You got a job for me?"

"Yes, for several months if that's alright."

"I probably won't be around for that long. This place is rented to my brother, and that Steve guy probably won't let me stay out the month, much less through the summer." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Let me worry about that. I think I can handle Mr. Wilkerson."

"Don't need no woman fighten' my battles for me."

She sighed. "Think of it as a down payment. We don't know each other, but I've heard good things about you. And if I talk to Wilkerson, then you know you can count on my word. Sound fair?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Labor around the farm, house maintenance, car maintenance. It's just me and my two boys, and this god damn house is a nightmare. I moved in two months ago and I just can't keep up. I thought I could renovate it on my own, but I work four days a week and I just don't have the skills. Merle said you were pretty handy, it that right?"

"Yeah, I know my way around a set of tools. When do you want me?"

"As soon as possible. I had a cord of wood delivered a week ago and I need it split and stacked. I have today off, I only work Monday through Thursday, so any indoor work you'll have to do Friday through Sunday. But there's plenty to do outside as well."

"How much you payin'?"

"I can't really afford much, maybe a two hundred a week. I don't expect you to come every day, I just want to see steady progress. And if the water heater blows up in the middle of the night, or a bear decides to set up camp on my lawn, I want to know I can call you. So will you help us?" Her brows knitted a little, and she chewed her bottom lip mercilessly.

"Make it two fifty and you got yourself a deal."

"two twenty-five." She was smiling again, and god, did it feel like sunshine.

"You got yourself a deal lady."

"You can call me May, everybody does." She held out her hand to shake, which he did. He noted how short she was, probably a full head shorter then him. "Will I see you today?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll come by after breakfast and check out your property."

"Alright. See you soon then." She headed out the door with a little wave. He watched her walk away, the perfect little arch of her ass disappearing around the corner of his trailer. It wasn't until the buckle of his belt made a clang against the metal door that he remembered that his pants were still open.

After a tour of her property he had gotten to work on splitting the wood. He hadn't been able to get out more than a yes ma'am and no ma'am the whole time they talked, and he had silently berated himself for it for the rest of the morning. And he still wasn't completely sure why she had chosen him; there must be a dozen guys he could think of that could do this same work. "And wouldn't have anything to do with the fucked up Dixon family mess" he thought, with no small amount of anger.

It was almost one in the afternoon when she stuck her head out of the front door and called to him. "Daryl? Hey! I'm sitting down to eat; you want a sandwich or somethin'?"

He didn't really know what he was supposed to say. On one hand, the idea of making idol chit chat with woman he hardly knew seemed like his version of hell. On the other, the money he got from pawning his bike was running out and he was starving. And if he waited too long to respond he would seem like a weirdo...

"Don't overthink it sweetheart. Its ham and cheese I'm offering, not a piece of the true cross." Her tone seemed light- was she laughing at him?

"You pay me a wage, you aint' got to feed me too!" Too rough again, he thought. If he somehow kept this job he was going to have to work on that.

"Just get your ass in here Daryl" her tone a little more demanding. "I've never forced my cooking down anybody's throat before, don't you make me start now." She turned and went back inside, the screen door slamming behind her.

He smiled, despite himself. She was going to be a sweet little pain in the ass- but he was quick to remind himself not to enjoy it too much. She was the boss after all, and nothing this good ever lasted long. He shuffled in the front door, all hunched shoulders and shifty eyes. He could see all the way from the front to the back door, the layout all open from the living room to the kitchen. She was busy in the kitchen but looked up when he walked in. "Well, it looks like I won't have to drag you in here kicking and screaming after all. The bathroom is right over there to wash up." She pointed to a wooden door to the right side of the living room.

After following her directive, he joined her at the small wooden table. "I hope you don't mind ham and cheese, it's all I've got."

"Not like I got a lot of choice, you made that pretty clear." His arms were crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders still hunched.

"You don't have to be social with me if you don't want to Daryl. I just want to get to know you. You seem like an interesting person." She started in on her lunch, trying not to look him in the eye- trying not to spook him.

He let his head bob even lower. "Ain't nothing interesting about me. Ask anybody round here, nothing good comes out of the Dixon family."

"Actually, I did. My coworker Carol says she knows you, says she went to high school with you. When I mentioned I was needing someone to work, she couldn't say enough good things about you. Not so much about Merle. But you, she couldn't say enough about."

'That's Carol to a T' he thought to himself with a smile. He had a huge crush on her 20 years ago and never acted on it. She knew how he felt, everybody did, but she never called him out on it. She had always been dating that same asshole she married. He was surprised she spoke so highly of him. "And you trust her word enough to hire me?"

"That and the background check I'm going to run. I hope you understand, I can't have you around my kids unless I know you don't have certain things on your record."

"Oh I got a record. Theft, assault- lots of stuff. If you lookin' for some goody two shoes then you better keep lookin' sweetheart." He started to get up, but she put her hand on his forearm. Her hand was warm, and he could smell lavender again. He looked up a little and could see right down her white shirt. 'God, what a handful that would be' he thought, his tongue dipping over his dry lips.

"Daryl, don't go." He stopped, but didn't sit down. She didn't pull her hand back, but let it slide down his forearm before letting go. "Just think about it. I've got two little boys. You're not dumb, you know what kind of crimes I'm really looking for. What any good mother would look for before hiring a man she just met. I imagine you would actually think less of me if I didn't."

He did know, when she put it that way. "Yeah, I guess I do know what you mean. You can look all you want; you won't find anything with kids on my record. I ain't even been to jail in over a decade." He sat back down and started to eat, wolfing down the food faster then what was probably polite. "Scews' me" he said, bashful, licking the last of the mayo off his fingers.

She was only about a third of the way through her food, but she stood and took his plate. "I'll make you another if you want." He nodded, and she smiled again. 'She grins like a goddamn Cheshire cat, I bet she's smart as shit.' He cleared his throat. "So what the fuck you wanna' know about me?" Tightness formed in his chest at the very thought of telling anyone anything about himself. 'Might as well just dive right in'.

She reached into a cupboard, pulled out a bag of chips, and tossed it to him. "Here, help yourself. You want a soda?" He nodded, tearing into the chip bag. "How about you tell me a little about Carol? Was she always that ridiculously nice?" May had quickly realized that Daryl would probably rather buy her tampons rather than talk about himself, so she let it go. For now. Carol seemed like a much safer topic to get him talking, and she still needed to get a good feel for personality before he started coming around on a daily basis. And it did get him talking, at least a little. After 45 minutes, a large bag of chips, two cokes, and another sandwich, he finally showed signs of getting full. He learned pretty quickly that she had an easy laugh, and like any kid from the wrong side of the tracks he had a few good stories to share from when he was young and dumb. But he was still painfully shy, and completely unsure how much was safe to tell her. So she filled in most of the time with chatting while he ate, trying her best to make him feel less awkward. Slowly, his body language softened a little. She told him a dirty joke that he hadn't heard before and he laughed. He watched as she tidied up, her mouth moving soundlessly to the words of the song on the radio. This moment, he wanted it held forever in his mind. Her beauty, a full stomach, the song on the radio- everything. Memories like this kept him alive in his darkest moods.

She looked at him, her head cocked to the side. "Daryl?" Her smile walked towards him, and when she bit her lip he felt transfixed. She sat back down at the table, and his head shot down again; protecting him from her searching eyes. "What's going on in that big ol' brain of yours? Hmm?"

"Aint nobody ever accused me a bein' an egghead, you sure you aint' tetched?" he deflected. Back to his mouth went his fingernail.

"I am entitled to my opinion. And I'm usually right about people." She fidgeted under the table, trying to at least appear to have a cool head.

"You hired Merle didn't cha?" he fired back.

"Touché. But I never had this much conversation with Merle, and from what I've heard, I probably wouldn't have let him in the house; much less eat my food." She saw his eyes darken again. "I know he's your brother. But I get the feeling he would probably say something brash about my tits, I would yell, he would yell, I would shoot him in the knee..." Daryl chuckled a little and she knew she had him back on track. "So. Here we are. You and me. Are you still alright with our arrangement?" He nodded. "Good. How much more work do you have on that wood pile left?"

"It's pretty much done, unless you want me to bring some in?"

"Yes, please. Right in the bin next to the stove."

He nodded again and headed out the door. He brought in four arm loads before the bin was filled, then started the stove burning for her. She got his information, and told him she would call once she got the background check back. Then he could start in earnest. He had walked off her porch when she called for him to wait. She ran back into the house, and came back out carrying a paper bag.

"It's just some cookies I made. I always make too much food, so please take some." She held out the bag, and was surprised that he took it from her without complaint. "And Daryl? I'm looking forward to seeing you again. I will be seeing you again, wont I?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Bye now." With a smile and wave she was gone, back inside her little cabin. He felt shell shocked. Had today actually just happened? Was he dead? He shuffled off back to his trailer, his nose deep in a paper bag of homemade cookies.

She stood inside, her back against the door, reflecting on the day. Carol was right about everything. He was handsome as sin, kind, handy. 'And hand to god, those shoulders... those goddamn shoulders. It was all she could do to keep her hands off him. He was rough, Carol had warned her about that. Shy to a fault, a little reckless, a little mouthy. And so skittish- he was more like a wild mustang then a man. Her tank top trick would normally get almost any man to flirt. But not Daryl Dixon, god damn it. He looked plenty, but not a move. He probably wouldn't know a move if it reached up and bit him in the ass. But she had time. She really had meant to renovate things herself, but life had a way of getting in the way. She just got lucky that her handy man was one of the most handsome men in the county- and he didn't even know it.