"You mind telling me what the hell happened back there?" Daryl asked, as softly as he could manage after he was finally fed up with all the awkward silence buzzing around in his ears. Madeline was deathly silent; she sat beside him in the passenger seat staring out the clouded window of the stuffy station wagon. Her clothes were a mess; her button up shredded, covered in blood and other gross bodily fluids that come from Walkers, and she smelled to high heaven, but she didn't even pitch a hissy fit about any of it. "Hell, she looks worse than me," Daryl thought as he kept his eyes on the crackled road in front of him. It had to be near ninety degrees or so, but goddamn it was hot, even for him. He had rolled down his window a crack to get some fresh air in, but even the air itself tasted stale and stagnant.
"I knew him—It. I used to know It." She answered simply, keeping her eyes locked to the forest she could barely see from outside her window. Daryl grunted in response, nodding his head. He had figured as much from what he saw: dumb girl almost got herself killed just staring at the damn thing. He really was doing his best to be sympathetic, but it came just about as natural to him as a cat to water.
"Guess your boyfriend bit the bullet before you found us, huh?"
"He wasn't my boyfriend!" Madeline snapped acidly, whipping her head away from the window to give Daryl the meanest Death Stare he had ever seen since he dropped his dad's bottle of Budweiser on the floor when he was four. Needless to say he got the beating of his life, and several stitches to add to his back. He was almost surprised Madeline didn't hit him any, the way she looked now she was like to rip him to shreds with her bare hands. Her blue eyes were icy and hard with emotion, her breathing was deeper as her rage quelled in her clenched fists lying in her lap, but all she was doing was giving him that look. Daryl didn't say much else after that; he didn't want to make her mood any fouler than it already was.
"Now ain't you just the biggest Pussy Paula I ever laid eyes on?" He could hear Merle's taunts echoing faintly in his head while he kept his mouth shut, but it didn't make him feel any better that he couldn't think of something to say to serve as a decent comeback for his brother or for Madeline. "You could always have her head in your lap if she ain't gonna put those pretty pink lips to good work, baby brother. I know I would." His brother goaded, much more clearly than before. Daryl dared to check the rearview mirror to make sure Magic Merle wasn't sneaking up on him again like he had back over at Hershel's farm, but all he saw in the back seat was his crossbow, Little Girl's backpack, a couple canisters of formula, bottles, toilet paper and enough generic painkillers to knock out a bull, but no sign of his brother. Daryl scoffed at his brother silently, shaking his head as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. His next response finally came with the glance of Madeline trying to flick dirt out from under her nails with one of her knives.
"She's like to bite your dick off, if she doesn't chop your balls off and feed 'em to Walkers first." He thought with a sly smirk on his lips. She might have been a great big screw up today, but Daryl knew he wouldn't have to worry twice about that girl being left alone in a room with a Walker or two. "Long as she didn't know them," but everyone had their faults…. mostly because they weren't hardasses like himself.
"Well lookie here, little brother defendin' his lady's honor like he knows some shit about chivalry," said Miraculous Merle, grinning a grimy, toothy grin as he leaned over the drivers' seat to have a few, meaningful words with his younger brother, abruptly stopping his train of thought.
"Oh shit!" Daryl shouted, jumping out of his seat in shock as he swerved the car into the side of the weed-ridden road. Madeline was howling all the while, screaming all sorts of vileobscenities at him that had even impressed Merle. "Fucking sweat got in my eye!" He lied, covering his left eye with the heel of his palm as he ran out of the station wagon like a bat out of hell, leaving the engine running.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, dumbass?!" He hissed under his breath at the apparition that stood in front of him once he was out of earshot. Merle appeared exactly the same as he had when he had last seen him, dirty, pissed off, and thinking he knows everything. Except now when his arms crossed over, there was a bloody stump where his right hand used to be, a grisly reminder of the likelihood that he was still alive and kicking.
"She can't see me, numb nuts! What you think, I'm Casper the Friendly Fucking Ghost? You need to get your shit straight." Merle taunted, laughing as he ran his left hand through his thin crop of hair. Daryl wasn't any sort of doctor, but even he knew this couldn't be in the last bit healthy seeing stuff that wasn't there. Not since Merle got him to try that Blue Sky stuff once and he swore off that shit for good.
"I can't be talking to you, you ain't even real!" He protested, shaking his head as he stared incredulously at his maybe-dead brother's ghost. He wasn't scared, he was just tripping his balls off right now; he had to be! It must be some type of heat stroke from being out too much, or something, but this could not be happening.
"No shit? And here I was thinking I were Tyler Perry. But you got some demons you need to be dealin' with before you go all cuckoo for Coco-Puffs, little brother, and that's a fact." Merle continued, holding his one good hand and his stump up in the air defensively, his grin never faltering.
"Daryl, what the actual fuck is up with you? You're freaking me out!" Madeline demanded, digging her nails into his bicep and turning his body towards the side to face her. He blinked at her a few times, but his scowl wringed up his face quick enough to act like he was irritated with her hand making contact with his skin.
"Why you touching up on the merchandise, girl, I'm just out having a cigarette break." Madeline narrowed her eyes at him and sighed, disapproval written all over her face. He wouldn't tell her what was happening with him even if she dropped her panties right now and asked for a spanking. What he was dealing with here was some kind of high-quality case of "Don't-Fuck-With-It" and he was obliged to keep it under wraps until he could sort through it on his own.
"Whatever, Dixon, let's just go home." She sighed, dropping her hand off of him and walking towards the station wagon. He watched her leave and waited until she was back in the vehicle to draw in a breath of air.
"Christ," He cursed, licking his lips and running his hand through his hair. He knew Merle was gone; he would've been squalling day and night about how pussy-whipped he was if he had seen any of what had happened between him and Madeline. 'Course he knew nothing as ever and wouldn't even know that he hadn't come close to having sex with anything that wasn't his hand since long before the world went to shit. He had never been "date material" at any point in his life, and he sure as hell wasn't any closer to being that now.
He dragged his feet over to the station wagon and got back in the driver's seat, feeling a weird sense of guilt nagging at the back of his skull once he set the car back in motion. This time, it was easier to drive with the silence, the both of them just didn't know how to say what they meant to say either because they couldn't, or they didn't want to. And either thought the other had the same opinion so they just left it alone.
"I'm sorry I hurt your arm with my nails." Madeline said quietly, once they had driven just a few miles shy from the prison. Just a little bit longer and it would be within seeing distance, but as it was, there were still miles of road between them; which left just him, her, and the oh-so great outdoors to keep each other company for the time being.
"Oh, that? Didn't even feel it, so don't be worryin' 'bout it none, we got more things to worry 'bout than some dumb scratch." Daryl answered honestly, turning his head over his shoulder to check his right bicep where he had supposedly been injured. He could see the four perfectly rounded indentions left in his skin, barely breaking it to draw thin lines of bright red blood, and if he checked under his arm he was sure to find a fifth, but he didn't give it any mind. "It's fine." He insisted, looking back to Madeline once he saw how hurt she looked at having caused him pain. "Women…" He said to himself.
"It's just…. I don't hurt people, especially not the ones that are trying to help me." She added, locking her fingers together in her lap and twirling her thumbs, keeping her head down so he wouldn't see her cry. Now Daryl was just uncomfortable. He never knew how to handle a woman crying in his car, mostly 'cause when they were in his car, they were with Merle doin' the ol' Bump-N-Grind in the backseat. That had been enough to make him want to tear up, but goddamn. What should he say?
"You sure you don't…." He started, his eyes darting from the road and back to her, "you don't need like a… Tampax or somethin'?" Then the next thing he knew, she was laughing. Madeline turned her head and couldn't keep the tears from falling if she tried, her belly was rumbling as she swallowed great gulps of air to try and keep from passing out; her laughter was ear-splitting. If his hair had been shorter she would have seen his ears turn as red as her face, it looked like an overripe tick.
"No I don't—I don't need a—TAMPAX!" She cackled, covering her face with her hands as her body began to ripple from the aftershocks. Daryl kept one hand on the wheel and the other over his brow to shield his face, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed. This was why he had hated going to high school so much, the girls that age never made any sense. He was as mortified then as he was as a full grown man and it made the matters all the worse. He had been so relieved to be getting out of the prison, but now all he wanted was to be alone in his guard tower all over again.