AN: I added on a lot more, and made this sort of the prologue. Sorry about that, but it needed a lot of refining and what not. It just didn't seem finished when I first posted it.
But thank you to the couple folks who reviewed it already. I hope you all like the changes.
Daryl Dixon was drunk. He usually was on Friday nights, but this particular Friday night, was the Fourth of July; and what other way to celebrate than in New Orleans, in a bar, in the French Quarter? He lifted the shot glass to his numb lips and slammed it back down on the bar. "Another!" He slurred, half falling off of his bar stool.
She sighed. She hated her job on holidays, and cursed herself for signing up for the extra hours; especially because The Fourth wasn't a 'time and a half' kind of holiday. And she definitely wasn't a patriotic kind of girl. She knew that this pathetic, out-of-towner was way far gone. She knew that he had had enough, and had hit the point of intoxication where she should stop serving him. But she poured him one last shot, and one for herself.
He smiled a goofy smile, and raised his tiny glass. "To this beautiful Louisiana girl," he said before throwing the whiskey back. He stood up as best he could, and staggered off through the crowd, and out the front door.
"To a man I'll never see again."
She downed her shot as fast as she poured herself another one, and another one, and another one. And before she knew it she was laughing by herself at the end of the bar that she had vacated.
"You know it's not fair," She said to herself. She was half talking to Gia, her co-worker, who took over after she decided to drown herself in her problems. "It's just… not… fair." She traced her finger along the mouth of the bottle of Jack that sat a fourth empty in front of her. "But that's life! My Daddy always said. The game's not fair but we keep playing, 'cause we're too cowardly to quit."
"Who're you talking to, babe?" She looked up to see Gia standing there. She lifted her index finger and her thumb in the shape of a handgun, pointed it to her temple, she pulled the trigger.
"Boom," She whispered. "Daddy shot 'imself dead right in front of me. Said he won't gon' be no coward."
"You've had enough." Gia pried the bottle out of her hands and capped it. Setting it back on the top shelf where it belonged. "Here, let me take you home."
She shrugged the younger girl off of her and fixed her tank top. "I can help myself, thank you." She took one step and her knees gave out from under her. But Gia only watched, knowing her friend was too stubborn to ask for help from anyone. "Ouch." She said loudly.
"Honey, do you even know where you live?" Gia asked.
"Of course I know where I live. What kind of dumbass question is that? 'Do I know where I live?' Yes I know where I live. I live at 3467 Gough Street, Baltimore, Maryland. What you think, I'm stupid or somethin'?" Gia sighed. She half crawled to the exit, and when she finally got up, she walked into the exit door, pulling instead of pushing. "Gi, why is it so loud in here? Like, the bar is closed for Christ's sake, you can turn the music down. And this fuckin' door won't open, good Lord."
"What music? And this is Louisiana, not Maryland." Gia just shook her head as she watched her whiskey beaten friend wobble out of the double doors.
She stepped out of the bar and into the humid southern Louisiana air, practically gagging, as if felt like the air itself was choking her. It was late, but on every corner there was still a saxophone player, or a fake psychic trying to swindle some money out of a tourist. And a few stragglers still lurked through the dark streets. She was drunk, clinging to the brick walls as she walked, but she still had a sense that it was not safe to walk downtown alone.
Her head snapped up as a shot rang through the air, her heart nearly jumping through her chest. Fireworks. It was Independence Day, after all. "It's so fucking loud!" She yelled. Probably attracting more attention to herself than need be, but she didn't care. Her ears felt as if they were bleeding, and her head was pounding. Another shot rang through the air, and the sky was filled with red, white, and blue sparks.
"Can you shut the fuck up already!" She cursed the sky. "No one gives a fuck about this damned country. It's all gon' go to shit anyways!"
Immediately, she felt nauseous, and fell back to her knees.
"Hey, are you alrigh'?" She heard a man to the right of her coming up the alleyway that she was kneeling in front of. She rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for company, and she certainly wasn't in any position to fight away any perverted men.
"I have pepper spray, and a mean right hook, it's probably in your best interest to leave me alo-" She gagged, and tried her hardest to swallow down all of the alcohol that she had drank tonight. It was probably too late to call Gia, or to turn back around and go back to her bar. What a stupid decision that was, leaving alone.
Two black leather boots stopped right in front of her. "You don' look like y're gon' be right hookin' anyone." He kneeled in front of her. "Want me to hold y're hair or somethin'?"
She tried to laugh, but the only feeling she could muster right now was hostility. "Can you just leave me alone?" She looked up at him, and half recognized his face. At least, she thought he looked familiar. But as soon as she got a good look at his face, she threw up. Ironic, she thought. And felt two hands holding her hair out of her face.
"It's alrigh', I done this plen'y of times; and for uglier girls, too." Was that supposed to be some kind of pick-up line? She couldn't control her stomach as she violently threw up all over the sidewalk.
When she was finished she wiped the tears from her eyes, and stood up as steady as she possibly could, focusing on the man standing in front of her. His short sand colored hair, and tan skin, and his ridiculously wicked, bright blue eyes, that she could see even in the dark.
"Hey aren' you that bartender?" He asked.
"Drunk tourist guy?" She said. "I thought I recognized you. How've you been? Haven't seen you in such a long time." He laughed. But she wasn't trying to come off funny, she was trying to be a sarcastic bitch, as per usual.
"Not so drunk now," He replied. "But I see you worked a number on y'self."
"Nothing I can't handle." She snapped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a ways to walk." She stepped passed him, bumping into him as she did, and continued on her way to her apartment.
"Well, we're goin' the same way, if you don't mind the comp'ny." She sighed loudly, and tossed her head back, cursing once again and the night's sky. Take the holiday shift, get stuck with some loser tourist, what are the odds… She thought to herself.
"I guess not. As if I really have a choice."
"Name's Daryl."
"Awesome."
They walked in silence for a while, and she could feel herself getting more tired with each unsteady step she took. She found herself having to grab ahold of her walking partner from time to time. Not that he minded, at all.
The thick air wasn't making it any better, either. It was like a hot blanket smothering her. She stopped for a moment and looked around. Unaware of her surroundings, "Wait a second. Where am I?" She looked at Daryl, "Where are you taking me? This isn't the way to my apartment."
She stepped towards him and raised her hand, but he caught it before she could smack him. "I was only followin' y're lead." He said. "If you don' know where you live, my motel is right 'round the corner there. Y're welcome to stay with me. Get some sleep, I'm sure you'll know where you are in the mornin'."
"I'm not gon' stay with some stranger I just met. Daryl. Who the fuck are you? You don't know me." But she knew that if he was going to hurt her, he would've already. He wouldn't have asked to hold her hair.
"You're sure as 'ell right, I don'." He replied. "You could fuckin' rob me in the middle of the nigh', and take off with all my money. But I ain't gon' leave you out 'ere by y'rself."
The easy answer was no. He could be a rapist. But if she didn't go with him, she'd pass out in the street and be bait for sure. She sighed loudly, once more. "Fuckin' bullshit, you know that?" She took a step toward him, and almost fell over, again to her knees. "But fine, take me to your goddamn motel. But if you try anything, I will fucking pepper spray your ass."
Daryl held his hands up, innocently.
"I'm Megan, by the way. If we're gon' be spendin' the night with each other and all. Might as well get acquainted."
The next morning she woke up with the worst feeling in her stomach and a killer headache. She looked around at her surroundings, and practically threw up in her mouth. This wasn't her. She didn't get drunk and sleep with random men. Her father had taught her better than that. But he had also taught her not to be a coward, and to take the gun when he was finished, and do what he did.
She heard the water in the bathroom turn off. He was still here. Who? She had no idea, but she knew that she needed to get out. She wasn't one for morning afters, or awkward situations. And this topped the list for both in her book. She pulled her boots on and bolted out the door, slamming it on the way out.
Daryl's head snapped up and he quickly wrapped the towel around his lower half, running out to the balcony of the motel. "Hey!" He yelled after her, but she didn't turn around. He sighed, frowned, and sulked back into the tiny room that he had shared with the girl, only if for a night. Something caught his eye though, on the floor, right under the edge of the bed. It was a bracelet; silver with the words 'with love' engraved on the inside. He pocketed it, figuring that he could pawn it for a little bit of cash. He would've returned it, but with an exit like that, he thought, why should he?
Megan found herself back behind her bar. "Gia!" She yelled, and the tiny girl appeared in the kitchen window.
"Holy shit, I thought you were dead on the street somewhere, I tried calling you, I went to your apartme-"
"I'm fine." She pulled her favorite bottle of Jack off the top shelf and poured herself one more shot. "The only cure for a hangover, is to keep drinking. My Daddy taught me that, too." She raised her glass to Gia, and smiled. "To a man I'll never see again." And this time she wasn't sure if she was talking about her father, or Daryl.