"Look like a damn pussy, Georgia Rayne."
"You do not, Daryl." Georgia leaned up and smoothed down the collar on his dress shirt one last time. He was grateful that she hadn't made him wear a suit or tux. Only a black dress shirt and a pair of dress pants. She'd even let him keep his boots on. She helped him scrape the mud off the bottom and helped give him a haircut so he looked right. After all, it was her last prom. He had to go. She was his woman. Even if a lot of people didn't know. She was still his woman. "You're going to be the most handsome man there. Every girl there is going to be jealous."
"Whatever, Georgia Rayne." But he smiled down at her and she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as her father walked into the room. Her father smiled as Daryl jerked away and glared at her.
"You look great, Georgia," James said happily. He kissed his daughter on the forehead and Daryl couldn't agree with him more. Georgia was wearing a green dress that clung to her like a second skin and billowed out at her hips. She called it a ball gown. He just liked that the thing that came and looped up around her neck showed a lot of her perfect cleavage.
"Ya do look really pretty," Daryl agreed.
"Let me get some pictures of you and then you can go," James ordered. "I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. All I ask is that the two of you behave yourself. I know you're eighteen now, Georgia, so I'm not going to ask you not to have sex. I'm just asking that you don't drink and drive."
Daryl winced at how casually James discussed Daryl having sex with his daughter. The man should have been offended by the thought of Daryl's dirty hands on his perfect daughter. Instead, he encouraged their relationship. He invited Daryl over for dinner. He bought the boy a crossbow for Christmas and bolts for his birthday. He treated the boy like the son he never had.
"We won't, daddy," Georgia promised. She reached over and slipped her hand into Daryl's. She tugged gently and ordered, "Come on, Daryl. We're going to be late for walk in and I want to show you off."
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"Daryl, Daryl, wake up damn it!" Daryl's eyes opened slowly to the sound of Georgia's voice. Her face hovered above his and she was glaring down at him, those coffee dark eyes narrowed dangerously. He had his hand locked tight around her wrist and he realized that he'd been yanking her up onto the bed with him. He let go quickly.
"I was trying to get a look at your wound and, for some reason, you decided that you just had to grab me and yank me over here."
"Musta missed ya, I guess," he growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Shut up and hold still, Dixon. Your girlfriend will be in here soon and I want you to be nice to her."
"Girlfriend?" he repeated, confused as Georgia's hand moved to unwrap the bandages around his head.
"Yes, Carol will be in here soon. She wants to bring you dinner."
"Carol?"
"Did you hit your thick fucking head while you were out there? Carol, your girlfriend, is bringing you dinner. She is finishing dinner up. She will bring food up here, and feed you. You will say thank you and do whatever it is that you do with your girlfriend," Georgia said slowly.
"Carol ain' my girlfriend."
"Sorry, I always forget that you hate that word. Your woman, then."
"Ain't my woman either. Don' have a fuckin' woman, Georgia. Ya still don' fuckin' listen to anythin'."
"Daryl, you don't remember, but you asked me to be here when you woke up and that's what I'm doing. I'm going to take care of you. You're going to eat, and then I'm going to drag you to the bathroom, run some water into the tub, and wash you, because you are filthy and we're worried about the dirt getting into your wounds."
"Ya don' have to do nothin'. Was out of it an ain't gonna ask ya to do nothin'. Ya don' gotta take care of me. Don' need ya to."
"Whatever, Daryl. I'm going to prepare your bath, Carol's going to feed you, and then, your filthy ass is getting into the tub."
"Georgia, don' fuck wit me."
"Daryl, shut up and lay there like a good little boy."
"Fuckin' hate ya woman."
Carol opened the door and Georgia left quickly so that Carol could help Daryl. She returned to find him lying on his side, glaring at the wall with the empty plate on the table next to him. She ordered, "Alright, Daryl, up out of bed. I'm your personal nurse and you need a bath."
"Ya jus keep tryin' to get me naked," he grumbled.
"I've seen you naked, Daryl. I think I can contain myself."
He grunted and she moved to the bed to yank the blankets away from him. He growled and rolled over to swat her away. She took that as an opportunity to grab his arm and yank him up. He groaned and snarled, "Remember, I'm injured, damn ya."
"Well, be a good patient and I wouldn't have to yank on you."
He scowled at her but let her loop his arm around her shoulder. He hated that he had to lean on her as much as he did, but she knew better than to say anything about it. She led him to the bathroom and pushed him to sit on the toilet seat. She knelt in front of him and started to unwind the bandages from around his waist. She was glad that he was already shirtless. He still was in a pissey mood with her and she didn't need to add to it. He had reason to be in a pissey mood with her. She left him, with good reason, but he thought she had his baby aborted. After she removed the bandages, she grabbed the bottoms of his boxer shorts and started tugging them down. Daryl yelped, "Woah! Whatcha doin' there?"
"You're going to get clean, Daryl. So we are taking your boxers off."
"But…"
"I've seen you naked before, Daryl. Take them off."
"I hate ya, ya damn hateful ass woman."
"I know you do. Now take them off."
He scowled but removed them so she could help him into the bathtub. There were only a couple inches of water in the tub, enough so she could get him clean but so she could avoid water pouring into this wound. She grabbed a washcloth and dipped it into the water and started washing, starting at his hair and working down. He sighed and leaned into her touch, still exhausted.
"Used to do this," he said so low she wasn't sure he'd even spoken. She kept her mouth shut and waited for him to continue. "Remember the tiny tub we had in the trailer?"
"Yeah, I fell in that thing more times than I could count. It was a health hazard."
"Remember how we used to get real drunk, an jump in it together. Ya'd sit in fronta me an we'd be in there all night."
"Unless your brother was there," she reminded him softly.
Daryl's face hardened and he fell silent. He didn't want to talk about Merle with her. He knew that Lori and Andrea had already filled her in on what happened to Merle but he didn't know how she reacted to it. He didn't know that, after they told her, she'd sat in stunned silence for ten minutes, unable to speak about the man that tormented her and eventually chased her away from Daryl. There were times when she hated Merle. There were times when she wanted to kill him herself, but she never truly wanted him dead. She just wanted him to be quiet. To leave her alone. To get out of their tiny trailer so she could enjoy time with Daryl.
She washed his back and his sides gently, avoiding the arrow hole and observing the scars that crossed across his back, knowing the stories behind them and the pain that came with them. There were a few scars on his arms and chest that she'd stitched up herself, from beatings or hunting accidents. Her stitches were always more even than his own, even in the beginning when her fingers had shaken so badly that she was sure she was going to drop the needle.
Daryl sat still and silent, doing his best to ignore the way her fingertips glided over his skin. Ignoring the way they paused at his scars and brushed over them more gently. He stared at the faucet in the tub and reminded himself over and over again that there had once been a baby in Georgia, and there wasn't anymore. It didn't make him feel better. It made his stomach twist and his throat burn. But it stopped him from finding her attractive. When she finished his back, head, arms, and chest, she handed him the rag and informed him, "You can do the bottom half. I'll go get your clothes."