Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect., are the property of their respective owners. The original character and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Some only see the pain behind a scar. For some they are worn in honor; proud badges of victory and bravery. For Lillian James Harper, they are a mark of survival. Every scar has a story, this one is hers.
Warning: This fan-fiction is rated Mature for Language, Gore and Adult Situations. Readers under the age of 18 are strongly discouraged from reading.
Pairing: Daryl x Lillian James Harper
Chapter Six
~Some animals are equal but some more equal than others. –George Orewell~
Having slept like shit the night before, I was all but dragging my sorry carcass out of bed the next morning, feeling sluggish and right pissed off.
All night I had lain awake, trying to find the right way to break the news about Merle to Daryl. Honestly, it wasn't worth the effort. I had been truthful the night before when I told the group it wasn't gonna matter who told him; none of us would be able to stop his anger, and at this point, I wasn't even sure I wanted to try.
The rest of my night was spent trying to get a handle my own emotions; trying to put myself in their shoes and all that. While I completely understood what Merle could be like when he was all drugged up and acting like a fool, he was still my family and those bastards left him chained to a rooftop like the goat in Jurassic Park. Merle would always be a dick—I had no delusions otherwise—but that dick was my brother and he had saved my ass more time than I could count; if the group didn't like Daryl or our family…well then, tough titty.
It was an easy decision to stay away from the rest of the campers this morning. I knew full well what would happen should I cross anyone of them in the mood I was in. So, I opted to skip breakfast and anything else that had been dubbed "women's work" for chopping firewood instead.
On any other day—preferably when these people hadn't just killed a member of my family—I would have happily accompanied Carol while she worked over the camp fire or mending socks, but right now I needed to do something a little bit more physical. Not to mention doing anything resembling women's work would mean I would cross paths with Andrea, and after last night's little spat I doubted the woman wanted to see me anymore than I wanted to see her.
"God, I really have to get a better handle on my mouth," I chastised quietly.
As the sun filtered through the rest of last night's rain clouds, I kept chopping. I mused to myself while I worked, that if I kept up this pace we'd have enough wood to last us through winter. This was exactly what I needed, to distract me, to release my anger and calm me. I would have done anything at that point to keep from thinking about Daryl's face when we—most likely me—told him that this group had left his brother for dead.
My loud morning activities must have woken Responsible Rick because he exited his tent a few minutes later stretching like he had just had the best sleep of his life. It didn't help my present mood since he was mostly at fault for my own sleepless night.
"Mornin'," He greeted with a smile. I couldn't help the funny look I gave him.
It was strange having so many people smiling at me so often. I guess I had gotten used to people either being frightened of me or disgusted; now I didn't know how to respond. It didn't help that I was already extremely aggravated with him.
But, I was the newbie around here and the Dixon's—myself included—weren't exactly bucking for the congeniality award. So those reason and many more, I decided to put my best booted foot forward instead of sticking it straight up Rick's ass.
"Mornin'," I replied a little testily, but at least I tried to plaster on a fake smile.
Points for effort and all that.
His genuine smile dropped and was replaced by a frown of remorse. His blue eyes regarded me carefully before he bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
Seriously? I was beginning to think that was all the man could actually say to me. He had been belting out apologizes since I met him. He was starting to sound like a broken record.
For a cop he wasn't so bad, he wasn't like some of the ones I've met in…well, never mind.
"No," I sighed, shaking my head. "You were just trying to keep the others safe, I understand better than just about anyone what Merle Dixon is like when he's high. It's not really you I'm mad at."
He looked confused as he studied my face; like he couldn't make out who it was I was angry at if not him. I knew he was about to probably open his mouth and defend T-dog or Andrea, but anything he might have said died when the screams of the children broke the peaceful quiet of our camp.
Dropping my hand from Rick's arm, I gripped my axe handle tighter and sprinted off in the direction of the quarry. The sounds of gnashing teeth hit my ears about the same time as the putrid smell of rotting flesh.
Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I tramped down the urge to dry heave. It didn't matter how many of those nasty things I've come across, the smell was always surprisingly bad…it never got any better. Those things were rank.
The group was silent with Rick in the lead until we reached the snarling sounds of a walker just beyond the trees and by the sounds it was making, I'd say it already had itself dinner.
"God, I hope it ain't one of the kids," I murmured quietly, wincing to myself. Fuck, someone could have overheard that little comment and I could have easily started a panic that would get one of us killed.
Fortunately for me, no one heard my comment and the walker—somehow—remained blissfully unaware of our presence. I had to wonder—was this geek somehow mentally unstable in life or perhaps deaf, because that scream made by Carl and Sophia should have rang the proverbial dinner bell.
As it was, the walker was on its knees feasting off the flesh of a doe. It had already gnawed halfway through the poor things neck and its boney, emaciated hand digging through the animal's entrails.
It took me a moment to wrap my head around what I was seeing, dread filling the pit of my stomach as my eyes locked onto the bright fletching of a very familiar bolt.
"Daryl…" I whispered.
Damn, this wasn't gonna be pleasant. That arrow definitely signified that Daryl would be along shortly and when he did things weren't gonna be pretty. If I knew Daryl, he was already gonna be pissed off about the deer and that was just gonna be a start to a very shitty morning.
The rest of the group stood there gaping at the sight like a bunch of fuckin' idiots, watching the walker that was dressed in what was once a nice business suit.
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at this very inappropriate time, but I just couldn't help sniggering to myself. Here we were standing around watching the walker eat Daryl's deer; just starting at the thing as it ate away at our resources like it was feedin' time at the local zoo.
What was next? Were we gonna share a bowl of popcorn and watch it eat the children?
When the walker finally turned to us and growled it seemed to snap Rick and the others out of whatever funk they were experiencing and he was the first to crack it in the head. The other followed suit when they seemed to realize we weren't here to take in dinner and a show, but when they did…it was frenzied and uncoordinated.
Personally, I wasn't goin' anywhere near that fucked up swingin' circle. I had my axe at the ready and my gun was loaded at my side, but I had no intentions of entering that and getting my head taking off by some asshole swinging blindly. The last thing this camp needed was for Daryl come back to find my head was taken off by some stupid prick who thought he was Rambo; that would not have ended well.
Dale—to my surprise—was the one who finally decapitated the geek. I smiled to myself as I thought of all the Big Strong Men in this camp and it was a crazy old snowbird from Michigan that finally brought down the walker with an axe. Hell, I was downright impressed. Sadly, you could tell it bothered him a great deal to end that life. He had gone exceedingly pale in the face and looked like his heart was breaking.
Personally, I didn't get it. I mean, I understood the value of human life but as far as I was concerned those things were no longer people…but if you wanted to look at them in that way, well, I thought of it as a mercy to put them out of their misery.
"That's the first one we've had up here," Dale panted, obviously still struggling to get ahold of himself after the adrenaline wore off.
I knew that feeling intimately.
"They never come this far up the mountain."
"They're runnin' out of food in the city, that's why." Jim commented, his face twisting up into a grimace as he stared down at the headless corpse.
"Maybe we should think—
Shane started to speak—no doubt to impart us with some of his worldly wisdom—but was cut off by a rustling from the brush not ten feet from where we were standing. It reminded us—with a good panic attack—that this geek might not have been by his lonesome.
Gripping my axe tighter, I tuned out everyone's breathing and focused on the trees in front of us. I could hear footfalls, but it wasn't the shuffling feet of a walker. They were steady and moving quickly, and the slight hitch in this person's gate—due to having a broken hip bone that hadn't healed properly—had me smiling.
With an amused smile, I started forward only to be met with resistance as Rick grabbed my arm. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, looking baffled by what I was doing.
"Lillian—
He started but stilled his tongue when Daryl broke through the tree-line, cursing under his breath the whole way.
Everyone—including myself—seemed to breathe easier. It was a relief to know Daryl was safe and back at camp but the others were happy that it was just my irritable hunter coming out of those woods and not another walker. I had news for them though, their relief was about to be very short lived.
When Daryl found out about Merle, that walker would be the least of their troubles. These people had no doubt seen plenty of Daryl's cranky mood-swings –or so I had been told frequently—but cranky Daryl had nothing on a pissed off one.
Marching straight passed the group of thunder-struck campers, Daryl headed straight for his desecrated prize.
"Sum'bitch," he cursed as he crouched, taking in the deer's ruined remains. "That's my deer!"
Had this been any other situation I would have been laughing my ass off. Leave it to Daryl to yell at a dead walker over a deer carcass.
"Look at it," He whined, nudging the dead animal with the toe of his boot. "All gnawed on by this piece of shit, dieses barin', motherless, proxy bastard!"
"What a baby," I mumbled, scratching at the back of my neck as he yelled, kicking the body of the walker several times in what I understood as Daryl's way of making himself feel better.
"That's not helping, son," Dale said as he stepped forward, reaching out to take Daryl's arm. The childish side of me wanted to dance around and sing, I wouldn't do that… but I settled for an eye roll and braced myself for when Daryl snapped.
What do you know 'bout it, Old man?" Daryl snarled, puffing out his chest in the way that clearly stated that he was done putting up with Dale's coddling.
Wonderful, I thought to myself. He's already in a mood.
With the intentions of giving the old man a break—and perhaps to get Daryl's temper back down to a rolling boil before all hell broke loose—I stepped forward and grabbed a hold of one of his thick arms. Thankfully, he stepped away from the conflict without question and turned to quickly kiss my cheek.
"Hey babe, do anythin' useful whiles I was gone?" He asked in a quiet whisper as he winked at me, waggling his eyebrows and making me laugh. I knew what he was asking—the fuckin' pervert.
"Maybe," I returned with my own sultry smirk, thinking two can play at this game. Of course my teasing only made him scowl at me. We hadn't had sex since before the outbreak hit, so it was fair to say that we were both wound tighter than piano strings and I was playing with fire. Had I dared to do this to him while we were alone, he'd have had my clothes gone and my ass pinned to a tree so fast my head would spin. It was kind a like poking a wild dog; sooner or later you were gonna get bit.
It was too bad that I really like it when he bites. Besides, he was gonna be pissed as Hell in a few minutes, anyway—might as well have a little fun with him while I could.
His blue eyes pinned mine for a minute more, telling me without words that I was in a heap of trouble later. When he looked away, that same pissed off pout reappeared on his face as he reached down to remove his bolts from the carcass.
"I've been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back ta camp, cook us up sum venison." He said crouching low to ground, sneer firmly fixed on his face.
"What do ya think, think we could cut 'round this chewed up part?" He asked looking up to me.
My nose curled and I had to grasp my stomach to keep from vomiting. Really, Daryl?
"Couldn't risk it." Thank you, Shane.
It seemed to be unanimous because everyone was vigorously nodding their heads in agreement with Shane—including myself. That was just nasty.
"Damn shame," Daryl murmured, eyeing his ruined trophy with longing. He was so damned cute when he pouted.
"Got us some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so, it'll have ta do." He said, perking up as he adjusted the critter-baring twine on his shoulder.
I smiled at him. Only Daryl would be so happy about eating squirrel meat.
Something snapping at my feet drew my attention away from Daryl's face and back down to the walker—or should I say; the dismembered head—as it tried to make a meal out of the steel toe of my boot.
Lurching backwards, I growled and drew my axe above my head, ready to swing but the 'shink' of Daryl's crossbow beat me too it.
"Come on people, what the Hell?" He groused as he removed his bolt with a squish. My stomach rolled, but it didn't seem to bother Daryl as he continued to scold us. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't ya'll know nothin'?"
All eyes turned to me as Daryl grabbed my hand and started towards camp, shouting for Merle to get his lazy as up as he went.
"Daryl," I whimpered, the sting of tears blurring my vision as I yanked on his hand and drew his attention to my face.
His eyes immediately zoned in my tears, "What's a matter?"
Shanking my head, I tried to form words…but nothing would come out, "I-I need to talk to you."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that we now had the audience of the entire camp. I wanted to yell, to tell those nosy pricks to go away. I might have felt differently if I knew they weren't all out here just for curiosities sake; none of them really cared about Daryl's feelings…they just wanted to see the UFC drama. It wasn't going to help anybody to have this many people as witness to Daryl losing his temper.
"Babe?" He questioned, one brow cocked in concern. His eyes were pleading with me to tell him how to fix the problem.
"There was a problem in Atlanta," I blurted, shakily with more tears spilling from my eyes. "Merle's not here."
"He dead?" He asked with a terse jerk of his chin, tears already forming wet rings around his eyes.
My eyes caught T-dog's as he made his way into camp, a load of firewood—probably intended for me—under his arm. I looked to him with pleading eyes, begging him to explain what I couldn't.
It made me feel guilty that I couldn't explain to Daryl what had happened 'cause I hadn't stuck around to hear it all myself. My temper had gotten the better of me and truthfully, I had no idea what was going on or what I should tell him now.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully, hoping he would understand that I wasn't in the best form to hear any of these people out.
Daryl's eyes cut from mine over to T-dog, Rick and Shane—who were all milling about looking more guilty than any man should. Daryl's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he licked his bottom lip. I could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, connecting the dots. Then, I saw certainty there…he knew, without anyone telling him, he knew. He looked straight into my eyes with a lifted brow before cutting his eyes to me and back again. It was a silent question…and it was a question I would answer truthfully…fuck the rest of them.
I nodded.
To everyone else in the group it would seem that Daryl was taking the news rather well, but I knew better. I could see the signs, the red splotches that broke out across his neck and cheeks; it was a sure way to tell that Daryl was about to lose it. If it had just been one of Daryl's temper tantrums than I wouldn't have been worried, but Daryl was about to lose his shit in a way that even scared the Hell out of me.
"He either is or he ain't," Daryl spat over my head, directing his angry voice towards the two cowardly men at my back. He was speaking to them now, after all.
Renewing my faith a little, Rick stepped forward and took some of the responsibility on himself. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."
"Who're you?" Daryl spat as he gripped my arm hard and pulled me behind him.
Not good. Not good. Not good.
"Rick Grimes," he offered. Rather politely too, for a man who might just get his head caved-in in the next few minutes.
"Rick Grimes?" Daryl scoffed, shaking his head as he approached the officer like an angry bear. "You got somethin' ya wanna tell me?"
My eyes searched Rick's catching his worried gaze and I frantically shook my head in warning. I could only hope he got the memo and didn't decide to do something stupid, like tell Daryl that Merle was a deviant to society.
"Your brother was a danger to us all," he started in his best do-gooder voice as he took a step in Daryl's direction.
With an annoyed groan, I palmed my face in exasperation. I knew the man was just trying to do the right thing…but come on! This was not going to end well.
"So I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked on a piece of metal. He's still there."
My head snapped up, my brows furrowed as I tried to make sense of what Rick just said. This was all news to me as I was under the assumption that Merle was already as good as walker chow when the group booked it out of town.
"Hold on," Daryl snapped suddenly, startling me. "Let me process this. Yer sayin' ya handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there!"
His voice was rising with every word he spoke right along with his blood pressure. His face had gone from blotchy to completely beet red in a matter of seconds and I knew this little pow-wow was about to escalate into more than words.
My eyes remained trained on Daryl's back as I waited for him to pounce. I knew it was coming, I could literally feel it in the air. Everything about him at the moment screamed anger; from the way his hands were balled into tight fists at his sides right down to the coiled muscles in his back, stretched tight with tension. He was wound so tight I was actually worried he might hurt himself.
For the first time since I met Officer Rick Grimes, I absolutely respected him. I knew the man wasn't stupid enough to not understand what was coming. He knew Daryl would explode and yet, here he was ready to take his lumps.
Rick's blue eyes regarded me for only a moment before he sighed, "Yeah."
It was a showdown from that moment on. Rick was stealing glances at Shane. Shane was alternating his gaze from Daryl to me and back again. T-dog had his eyes trained on Daryl and Daryl was glaring at everybody but me. It seemed like forever as we waited for the clock on the bomb to wind down but within seconds the twine of squirrels hit the ground and I knew it was over.
Like a tiger, Daryl lunged for Rick and for a moment I thought Officer Friendly was just gonna take his ass-beatin' without word, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Shane. His reaction was faster than I thought it would be and not a second later he had Daryl wrestling on the ground.
"Daryl!" I yelled, rushing forward as I saw the glint of his blade. As much as Rick could stand to do with a black eye, Daryl seriously didn't need to stab anyone.
Shane and T-dog were busy trying to get a better hold on Daryl when Shane saw the knife for himself and yelled, "Watch the knife!"
It was a blur of arms and legs as the Rick, T-dog and Shane tried to get Daryl under control. I stood by, watching until Shane locking Daryl in a chokehold finally stopped the brawl.
"Best let me go!" Daryl roared as he struggled against Shane's grip.
For anyone who didn't know Daryl personally they would have never caught the panic that flashed in his eyes the moment Shane's large arms wound around his neck. Of course they wouldn't know that Daryl's daddy had nearly killed him once when he was just a kid. The bastard was just drunk and thought wrestling his eight year old boy in the middle of the night would be a funny parlor trick for his friends. Long story short, he took it too far and if it hadn't have been for Merle coming home—equally wasted—Daryl wouldn't be here today.
"Naw," Shane grunted, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think I will."
Sadly for Shane, I did know about it and when I saw that horrified look in Daryl's eyes something in me…snapped.
Before I could even stop to consider the consequences of my actions, Merle's pistol was out my side holster with the safety off and a round in the chamber. It was also pointed at Shane's head.
"Let'em up, Walsh!"
Shane's dark eyes met mine and for a moment a look of admiration passed over his face before it settled back into a fierce scowl.
"What are you doing? Put that away!" Lori demanded.
Smirking, I parroted Shane's smartass comment. "Naw, I don't think I will."
"We can talk about this." Rick—ever the negotiator—said quietly. "Please put the gun down."
"Let'em up." I repeated, shaking my head. "I didn't walk my happy ass all over the state of Georgia to get cut up and nearly raped by some wacko freaks just so you could strangle the only family I have just after I found him. Now, Let. Him. Go."
Rick nodded to Shane. "Let him go."
Daryl wheezed for several minutes after Shane let him go and as promised, I immediately secured my weapon and rushed to Daryl's side.
"I'll explain later," I told Rick quietly as I brushed by him, hoping he'd understand. After all, I didn't want him to think I was psychotic because I wasn't and contrary to popular belief, neither was Daryl. He looked at me curiously for a second before he had some sort of an epiphany and nodded with a slight smile. I had no idea what in the Hell he could be thinking, but at this point—I didn't really care either.
"It's not Rick's fault," T-dog said, cautiously stepping closer. "I had the key, I dropped it."
Daryl, who was still on his knees gasping, looked up at him with disbelief. "Ya couldn't pick it up?"
I dropped it down a drain." T replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Daryl looked from T-dog to me before turning on his heels and letting out a choked up sob. His arm extended backwards, reaching out for me and when I grasped his hand he squeezed it tightly.
"If that's supposed ta make me feel better, it don't." He spat as he stood up and tucked me under his arm.
T-dog took another tentative step forward and quickly added, "I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him. With a padlock."
Rick—who must have seen some heavenly light at the end of the tunnel—tacked on, "That's got to count for somethin'."
Daryl just shook his head, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. It hit me hard that I had seen Daryl cry more in the last couple of days than I had ever seen him in the entire eight and a half years I'd known him.
He furiously rubbed at his red eyes with his free hand, and wailed. "To Hell with all o' ya'll! Jus' tell me where he is so I can go get'em."
Surprisingly it was Lori who stepped forward, "He'll show you."
Completely overcome with shock, I stood there gaping at the woman like she was the Blessed Virgin Mary. I could've really given a shit less that she was only saying that to sooth her guilty conscience—or perhaps even to save her husband's ass, whatever her reasoning, she put a spark in her husband's eye that I was appreciative for. The sheer thought of being his old do-gooder-self had lit a fire under that man's ass, which meant he would be helping and Daryl wouldn't be running the geek infested streets of Atlanta by himself.
As this was proclaimed by the Queen-Bee, the group all wore matching expressions of confusion and distaste. I could see it in their eyes, not one of them thought it was worth risking bodies and resources for a men like Merle or Daryl. Every one of them could kiss my Redneck-lovin', Hillbilly ass.
I had news for all of them though, should the same fate befall Daryl out there…I really would slit all their throats in the middle of the night, starting with Rick's wife.
~(Author's Notes)~
I wanted to thank all of you who have reviewed, favorited and who are following this story...I means a lot that you all are enjoying.
For those of you who are interested in more pictures of Lillian and Daryl or any of my other OC Characters that will be along in future chapters, please visit my blog at www . scarsofsurvival . blogspot . com
As always please remove the spaces.
LittleRin26