Chapter 10: A Rose By Any Other Name

It's almost sunset by now, the sun barely hanging over the distant horizon, like some fat, overripe peach. Streaks of yellow render the sky in slices, the horizon is diluted a burning red, and the far reaches of the world's ceiling are bruised the deep and impending shade of twilight. Night was not even an hour away and yet, it's still humid as shit, hot and heavy. The sparse trees around him do little to alleviate the heat, it's been sticky all fuckin day, but Daryl does his best to ignore it and continues to peel the hide of his most recent squirrel up towards its head, exposing the plump flesh below. Sweat trickles down his temples, tracing winding tracks into the grime caked onto his skin and his hands are filthy, gore up to his wrists, but Daryl doesn't give a flyin fuck. This is his last fuckin squirrel and he's almost damn done with it and if those bastards say one more word of his "lack of personal hygiene", he will shoot them in their entitled, spoiled, good-for-nothin f-

"Hey Daryl? Where do I put this last piece? The rack's full."

Pulled from his violent musings, Daryl halts in his final cut. "What?"

Turning to his right and it might be getting dark but he's not that old, only 29, where he has to squint in the dusk to see Audrey lookin back at him, eyebrow cocked and green eyes questionin, as always.

"I said," she drawls back and Daryl narrows his eyes in warning at her attitude. Just cuz she's been helpin doesn't mean Daryl is gonna let her give him lip. She ignores his stank eye, however, and lifts her hand up, waving a piece of recently salted meat in his face as she says, "I finished the rabbit but the drying rack is full. Where do I put it?"

"Full?" Daryl thinks to himself. How the hell can it be full? He had brought the bigger one! Exhaling harshly, Daryl stabs his Bowie knife into the log they've been using as a table and leans forward, lookin 'round the kid's body to see for himself cuz she's probably over exaggeratin, as city folk do. But hell, she was tellin the truth. The foldable metal rack is gleamin in the fadin sunlight, laid from edge to edge with slices and slivers of his catch, and is honest to God full. They must have caught a lot more than Daryl first thought. On one hand, that's good. More food means less fuckin lip from those people. On the other hand…they had no room to lay that last piece of rabbit out, let alone the squirrel in his hands. He'd use the log that he and the kid are usin as the skinnin table but it's relatively small and unstable. The two of them are already elbow to elbow, working on a "tabletop" that is half the size of a standard school desk, each with their outside legs wrapped around the ends of the log to keep it from rolling away. It isn't ideal, shit Daryl's nicked himself a half fuckin dozen times already cuz the kid keeps accidently bumpin into him and vice versa, but it was the best Daryl could do away from camp.

Still…it's a piece of shit and worthless for his needs now.

Daryl is still scowling at the drying rack, tryin to make it grow with his glare, when Audrey leans into his line of sight and cocks another eyebrow at him. "Believe me now," she asks dryly. Mouthy brat. Daryl scoffs and leans back in his seat, or rather the stump he's usin as a seat, and picks up his squirrel to finish it off.

"Whatever," he grumbles to her, rubbing a dirt-streaked wrist across his equally filthy forehead, careful to keep the blade of the knife away from his face. "Eat the damn thing, I don't care."

The kid makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and, out of the corner of his eye, Daryl sees her wrinkle her nose at him and then the piece of rabbit in her hand. "Fine," she mutters after a second. "I'll figure something out." Shooting him a glare she think he can't see, Audrey turns back to the rack, grumbling under her breath about rearranging. Daryl continues on his with his task, seemingly unaffected.

Truth was though, he did kinda care what the kid was doin to the meat, which is why he kept shootin her glances every so often. He wasn't gonna admit it, he'd rather take a geek on with his bare fuckin hands 'fore he did, but Daryl was starvin. He hadn't eaten this mornin, had started out on his hunt way before the sun had even risen, and when he came back for lunch, well…he had to deal with other things. The memory of those things set Daryl's teeth on edge, the familiar flare of anger curlin up his spine and setting a spark burnin through his veins. But, while he tries to lose himself in the mechanical motion of his blade, slice, slit, cut, until he can no longer distinguish one flick of his wrist from the next, the movements are so familiar now, so ingrained in him, that they can't keep his attention for long and he's fallin back on his thoughts before he can catch himself.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Daryl cringed at the volume that the bitch's voice actually reached. Christ. If there were any dogs in a fifty-mile radius, they were bayin their hearts out.

The kid beside him drew back a little at Lori's god-awful banshee shriek, taking a half step back into his shadow. Daryl meant to shoot her a harsh look, he ain't her Pa and he ain't gonna protect her or some shit, but the glare came out more confused than anything because, as he looked at her from the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but remember how she had done the same thing the day they met, when Walsh had offered his hand to her.

"Ah…hey Lori," Audrey stuttered out, raising a hand to wave but aborting the movement half way through when it pulled too harshly on the cuts that crisscrossed her shoulders. Daryl tried not to think of how the blood was stark and unsettlin along the base of her neck and the torn fragments of her shirt. He really didn't care one way or another. It was her fault for standin under the damn trap. "Um…I know how this must look but…it's actually a really funny story." A nervous chuckle spilled out of the kid and she was chewin on her lip like it was goin outta style. The woman in front of them looked anything but amused though. In fact, under the livid fury, Daryl thought he saw a current of fear, quicksilver and potent. The hell?

"Funny? Funny? Audrey! You're covered in blood! Your face is torn to shreds! How is this funny?"

Daryl couldn't believe it. Her voice could actually go higher. He had half a mind to reach up and make sure his eardrums hadn't ruptured. However, before he could, the woman was whirlin on him, her blue eyes dark and accusing, her bony ass finger inches from his face.

"What happened? What did you do?" she demanded, steppin up to him as if she was gonna take him on. Daryl balked at the bitch's words, how dare her, and bared his teeth.

"I didn't do shit ya stupid cooze! I was gettin food for you and all the other worthless bastards here! Screw ya if ya think-"

"Well what am I supposed to think Dixon?" She spat his name like it was the scourge of the earth. "You walk into camp with her at your side and she's covered in blood, cut to pieces! Again!" Scowling, Lori's blue eyes flicker to Daryl's knife at his hip and, she didn't say anything, but he could see the insinuation in her eyes.

And that pissed him off even more. "Doesn't mean I did anythin to her!" he shouted back, jabbing a finger in her face. The bitch didn't even flinch this time.

"Then what happened to her?"

Suddenly, Audrey stepped up from out of nowhere and put a hand to either of their chests. Her eyes were wide and green and the blood was still stark as hell as she whipped her head back and forth between them. "Hey! Can we stop talking about me like I'm not here or something?" she said. The older cooze opened her mouth to say something but the kid cut her off, something that Daryl was partially grateful for because now he didn't have to shut the flappin mouth for the bitch. "Hell, I'm scratched up, not dead."

That is exactly what Daryl had been thinking cuz, Christ, he'd gotten worse injuries from fights with Merle.

But then, Walsh was there, shotgun in hand, and Daryl didn't think he was imaginin things when he thought the gun was half way pointed at him. "Depends on what scratched you," he said. Everyone, at the same time, went dead still at his words. The cooze took an immediate step back, that quicksilver fear in her eyes again, the crowd of people around them, all them useless, entitled bastard, doin the same thing and Daryl watched as Audrey whirled to face Walsh head on.

"What?" Daryl heard her say. "What do you mean by 'what scratched me'?"

And all of the sudden, Daryl got it and it was pretty fuckin clear what Walsh meant. He could see it in all their eyes, that fear, that panic; could see it in the way the cop was grippin his gun, the way his mouth was workin and the way his eyes were hard and flat. Daryl had no doubt in his mind that, if push came to shove, Walsh would put the barrel of his shotgun to Audrey's head and blow her brains out, no hesitation. The thought made somethin writhe in Daryl, get riled up and pissed off, but he didn't know why. The rules for this world were clear, at least to him: zero tolerance for walkers. Daryl would do the same damn thing. One bolt through the brain. Done. He would. Without even thinkin twice bout it.

He would.

The kid, however, didn't see any of those things though, didn't see what everyone else was thinkin. Daryl could tell. Her eyes were still wide, still confused, still young and open and he knew no one was gonna inform her so he suddenly took the initiative.

"He thinks ya've been scratched by a walker," Daryl drawled out and everyone flinched at the taboo word. Bunch a pussies. "Wonderin if he should shoot ya now or later." The words are harsh, blunt, but Daryl didn't give a fuck. These people could talk in circles for days and he had shit to do.

Upon hearing his words, Audrey spun to gape at him, her lips a perfect 'o' of shock but it was Walsh who spoke up first. "I didn't say that Dixon. Don't be putting words in my mouth when you don't know jack shit," he snarled, lifting his gun to point at Daryl threateningly. And hell if the hunter didn't reciprocate, reaching back to swing his crossbow around, itching for a fight.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Everyone needs to calm the hell down! I haven't been...a walker didn't do this to me!" The kid was frantic as she shoved herself between Daryl and Walsh, bumpin into each of their weapons without even hesitatin, anglin her body so she's facin Walsh, the barrel of his shot gun brushin her gut as Daryl's crossbow rested in the small of her back. The tip of an arrow torn a hole in her already ruined shirt, prickin the spin underneath, Daryl could tell cuz a bloom of red suddenly appeared and he jerked his bow back, but she didn't even flinch. She was too busy talkin a mile a minute to Walsh and the rest of assholes, tryin to explain that what happened had been an "accident."

At the word "accident", everyone snapped their gazes back to Daryl, everyone, and Daryl sneered in aggravated defiance, challengin the accusation in their eyes. He didn't do fuckin shit. And he didn't care what they thought. The kid was just scuffed up and it was her own fault. She'd fuckin live and he fuckin had shit to do damn it. He was 'bout to open his mouth and tell them to screw off and let him through, they had formed a semicircle 'round the kid and him after all, but before he could, Audrey said somethin that drew all attention back to her.

"…and Daryl was the one that saved me!"

Wait. The fuck? Daryl jerked his head to stare down at the top of Audrey's head in confusion. He's half a foot away from her and half a foot taller than her but he knew he had heard her right. And saved her? What the hell is she talking about?

Walsh was apparently thinkin the same thing because not a second later, eyes narrowed in suspicion, he said, "Saved you? From what?"

Having caught their attention, Audrey took a deep breath. "From a wild animal. I'm not really sure what type. I think must have messed with it's den or something because one second, I'm taking a walk through the woods and the next, it's on top of me."

Daryl frowned at her explanation. That…wasn't what happened. She was lying. Why the hell was the kid lying? He couldn't say anythin to the contrary, however, cuz she kept on talkin. "The animal had somehow latched itself on my shoulders so I couldn't reach my katana and by the time I thought of my tanto, it was on my face. Claws were fucking sharp. It would have torn me to pieces. That's when Daryl showed up. Pulled the thing off me." Here, Audrey shrugged, and Daryl didn't need to see her face to know she was smilin at the crowd in front of her, lyin to their faces. "As I said, he saved me."

The silence that followed was tense as all get out. The bastards kept lookin from Audrey to Daryl and back again, as if they were tryin to catch them in a lie. Hell with that. He hadn't lied about anythin. She had. Ain't his problem.

"Is that true Dixon?" Walsh suddenly spoke up, his dark eyes heavy on Daryl. His mouth twisted into a thick scowl, like he had just tasted something rotten, but before he could spit out the fuck off he desperately wanted to, Audrey turned to him, glancing over her shoulder and pinning him to the ground with those goddamn green eyes. There was a question in those eyes and a command, wrapped in one, begging him, telling him, to just fucking say yes, and though Daryl didn't do commands, he wasn't anyone's bitch so no one could tell him what to do, he found himself grunting something of an affirmative at Walsh and the rest of the group nonetheless. Anythin to get these mother fuckers off of him. Walsh didn't look that convinced. In fact he was still lookin at Daryl like he was contemplating shoving Audrey out of the way and just shooting the hunter in the head.

But fuck it, Daryl was done.

Scoffing at the lot of them, Daryl sidestepped the kid who was still between Walsh and him, not even acknowledgin the look she sent him, and strode forward. For a second, the group tensed as one, like they were gonna try and stop him, but common sense prevailed and they parted to let him through.

Daryl hadn't made it ten feet before he heard the young bitch, Annie or Amy or somethin, say, loudly, "How come every time you're alone with that bastard, you end up all bloody?"

He heard Audrey laugh. "Shit just happens to me Amy. Daryl has nothing to do with it."

The blonde chick mumbled something in reply but Daryl forced himself to keep walkin back to his tent, tryin not to think about why Audrey had lied and why she bothered to defend him.

Daryl hadn't really thought that the kid was gonna come find him after all that shit. She had said she wanted to help him but he just chalked it up to polite bullcrap. Besides, he hadn't been lyin when he told her that her face was all kinds of fucked up; it really was; not to mention the state her shoulders had been in. Daryl assumed she was just gonna get bandaged up and then fuck around with the chink and the other chick she always hung around. Not that he noticed whom she talked to. The three were just so loud, he could usually hear them all the way back in his tent.

So imagine his fuckin surprise when she showed up, an hour after they got back to camp, standin in the exact same place that she had been days ago when she had smiled at him and asked him to come watch her fight. No preamble, no nothin. She just was suddenly there, all bandaged up, askin when they were gonna skin their catch. At first, Daryl had just blinked at her, bowled over and confused, because, hell, what was with this chick? He shoots her in the head, not his fault she looked like a damn geek but he had done it nonetheless, he barely acknowledges her with anything less than disdainful indifference while she's in camp, again, not his fault cuz he ain't anythin to her and she ain't anythin to him neither, he gets-she gets scratched up, her own fault but she was with him, and she keeps comin back to him, open and…kind. Why the fuck did she keep doin it? Makes no goddamn sense if you ask Daryl. If it was him…well if it was him he wouldn't have been standing where she was, ready to help, that's for damn sure.

But there she had stood and Daryl had just stared. Eventually, Audrey had quirked an eyebrow at him, realized he wasn't gonna say anythin, and told him that she had found a small little clearing with Glenn the other day, down by the quarry, that they could use to "set up shop." Christ. Set up shop. Like this was some business instead of just cleanin some kill. Daryl had looked at her like she was crazy though. The quarry, though close by car, was a pretty good hike down, not to mention back up. He had growled at her as to why the hell he was gonna drag his ass, and his catch, down to the quarry when he could skin right where he was, sittin in front of his tent? The kid hadn't given him a verbal answer. She just tilted her head and looked past him, right at his tent, where Merle's god awful snorin was like a fuckin-

And then it had clicked. Oh. Merle. Fuck. Daryl might find the kid in front of him…tolerable but Merle sure as hell didn't. He hated her. Spoke shit about her all the time. If he woke up to her sittin outside his tent with Daryl…the younger Dixon didn't even wanna think of the fight that would follow. He had predicted it would start with lots of drug induced cursin on Merle's part and end with a bullet on Walsh's. That was one clusterfuck he wanted to avoid. Given that, he had almost told Audrey to forget it, he'd clean 'em alone. But then he had glanced at the haul he had brought in and realized…it would take a long time for him to finish alone. He had done it before but…Daryl also knew it went a lot fuckin smoother and faster with a second pair of hands. And no one else was steppin up to the plate. Merle was too tweaked out of his mind at the moment and the rest of idiots…Daryl would rather stab them with his knife than hand it over to any one of them. But there was this kid, starin at him, waitin for his answer, and Daryl remembered how she had behaved in the woods. How she had listened to all his instructions to undo and then re-rig the traps. How she had helped put the still living animals down, with minimal hesitation and no complaint. Audrey was…the least pitiful of their group, Daryl would give her that much, and, if he had to admit it, she was slightly helpful. And he was tired of doin all this shit for these bastards. If the kid wanted to take work off his hands, instead of puttin more in, Daryl thought he could trudge a few feet into the damn woods to help her out.

With that thought in mind, he had started to pack some gear, the drying rack, an extra knife, the small pack of salt he had for preservin the meat, somethin he had grabbed from his house when he and Merle had decided there was nothin for it and high tailed the fuck out of Dodge. When he was done, he looked up to see Audrey bouncin in her stupid shoes, eyes dartin 'round like she was nervous or just itchin to move. Daryl rolled his eyes and told her to lead the way and try not to get fuckin lost.

Which brings them to where they are now, sitting side-by-side beneath the fading sun and shaded trees. Daryl blinks as he comes out of his musings, eye focusing on his hands and discovering he's almost done with that last squirrel. He wonders how long he's been out and scolds himself cuz, dumb ass, a walker could have come up and taken a bite out of his ass while he's in fuckin lala land. He must be more tired than he thought. Shit.

"Done."

Daryl starts slightly at the word, even if it is said quietly beside him, barely audible over the humming cicadas coming awake at the ending of the day. Hell, even after this whole afternoon, he's just not used to people bein near him, let alone talkin, when he cleans a kill. Or at any time really. Unless you count Merle which he doesn't cuz Merle is Merle and whether he liked it or not, his older brother did what he wanted.

Lifting his head and blinking away the sweat trailing into his eyes, Daryl turns to the right and watches as Audrey sets down his spare knife, beaming down in triumph at the slivers of meat she had somehow managed to fit unto the drying rack. The rabbit had been thin and young, not much flesh on the thing, but the kid had still found a way to maneuver the meat she had gotten off the thing in such a way that, not only did the rabbit fit, Daryl thinks there should be enough room for his squirrel too.

Audrey looks pleased as punch too, smirking with sweat on her brow and blood on her hands. Daryl rolls his eyes and stabs his Bowie knife into the log they're using as a table, ignorin the irritating, impressed feeling that's wrigglin in his chest. "Bout damn time. Thought the sun was gonna set 'fore ya had that done," he jeers at her. Audrey turns to face him and attempts to make a face but winces when it pulls the still smartin cuts on her cheeks. Her fingers flicker up and brush across the crisscrossing lines, a pout pulling her chapped lips.

"Oh shut up Dixon," she grouses. "Today's my first day on the job and I'm trying my best." Lifting a hand, she flicks flecks of blood off her fingers at him and he scowls at her. "Besides, you aren't even done with your piece. I'm the one who's waiting on you, slacker."

She has a point, she had finished the rack before he finished his squirrel, but Daryl would rather pull out a tooth than admit it. They've only been at this for 'bout two hours, slaving under this tree down near the quarry, but the kid was doin a pretty good job with everythin. At first, she had been real hesitant and unsure, lip drawn taunt between her teeth, green eyes wide, and Daryl's hunting knife awkward and fumblin in her grasp. Daryl had shown her where to cut, which way to slice to render the meat from the bone like cuttin through butter, but her first attempts had been halting, choppy. It got to the point where Daryl had growled at her that if she wasn't gonna help, she might as well get the hell outta here and let him do this shit himself. Apparently the kid just needed that firm shove because the next second she had pursed her lips, cast him a heated glare, and buckled down. And, while she wasn't setting record speeds, and while her cuts weren't as perfect as time had made Daryl's, she was efficient. A fuckin quick learn, just as she had said.

Since then, the two of them had developed a sort of system: Daryl skins and cleans out the innards and she carves and lays them out on the drying rack, rubbed in salt. He slaps a carcass down on the log, flays it open in nothin flat, than hands it off to her to cut, just as he's reachin for the next one. Simple. Easy. And if Daryl thought that Audrey was actually pretty helpful, unlike Merle most of the time, he didn't say a word because even if the kid wasn't as useless and spoiled as all them other city folks, that didn't mean Daryl was gonna praise her for it or some other stupid shit. He was a Dixon; he didn't do that crap.

So, when she says those words like she's won somethin, smirkin at him all smug and shit, with those damn green eyes of hers mockin and darin, Daryl doesn't even blink, doesn't even think, as he picks up his skinned squirrel and chucks it at her, puttin her back in her place.

The first part of a gasp rattles out of Audrey's throat as the bloody carcass sails right at her face and there's a split second hesitation as she realizes if she doesn't move, the thing's gonna hit her but if she does move, the thing's goin in the dirt, wasted. Daryl watches the internal struggle with an internal smirk but that microsecond hesitation is all it takes because before the kid can even decide, the squirrel collides with her cheek, makin a wet splat sound, before it slides off her chin and lands right in her lap.

A few seconds tick by and all the kid can do is gape in shock at Daryl, the smear of squirrel blood stark against her skin. Daryl cocks an eyebrow at her, darin her to say something, half knowin she will. And, sure enough, the surprise of his action quickly wears off cuz now she's glarin at him, green eyes on fire and jaw working, wanting to set itself into a scowl.

"You know lashing out only makes me seem more right," she points out, rubbing the back of her hand through the blood on her a chin. The watery crimson streaks smudges deeper into her skin, tainting it a pinkish hue.

"Ya aint right in the first place. Only reason yer done is cuz I'm doin all the hard work," he says to her, tone more than a little defensive. Skinnin and cleanin is the more detailed work; any idiot with a knife can cut meat to eat it.

Audrey rolls her eyes but doesn't respond to his jibe as she gingerly picks up the bloody carcass in her lap. "Egh," she mutters as the raw meat slides along her palm. "I feel like I'm never going to get this blood, let alone the smell, off of me."

Daryl snorts at her comment. That's what she's worried bout? The world's damn ended and the kid's worried about body odor? Jesus Christ. Helpful or not, she still screams pampered city folk. "S'not like ya smell daisy fresh now," Daryl replies, even if it is kind of a lie. She doesn't smell too bad; mostly the bitter tang of sweat and, now, as she had pointed out, blood. But Daryl lives in a tent with Merle. He has definitely smelled worse. At his words, Audrey glares and flips him the bird, cheeks tinted red, before turnin forward again, settin the squirrel on the work table and pickin up Daryl's huntin knife, goin back to work without another word.

The small clearing they are in falls quiet again, save the sounds of the kid's cuttin and the rattle of the bag of salt. Daryl picks up his own knife and sets about cleanin it, yankin a clean rag from his back pocket and wipin the steel of the blade. The blood comes away easily enough but he knows he still has to sterilize it when he gets back to camp. Same with the knife Audrey was usin. Thinkin about all that he has to do, Daryl cranes his head up to stare at the sky, takin in the position of the settin sun and the length of the growin shadows. The two of them needed to head back soon. Ain't no use gettin caught out here after dark. Daryl would be fine if anythin happened, some dumb dead bastard wasn't gonna do him in, but the kid was another story.

It isn't that he thinks she can't handle herself. He thinks back to that spar she had with Walsh, 'bout a week ago. It's not that he had gone to watch her; he hadn't all right? Merle had fuckin used up all their water comin off of some high and Daryl had needed it to cook up some stew for the brace of squirrels he had. The group, cuz of Walsh's say so, kept the water near the RV, in big five-gallon containers, so that's why he was even there in the first place. Daryl had just siphoned about a gallon of water from one of the jugs when movement from the other side of the RV had caught his attention. He hadn't been interested, really hadn't, but as he was movin away from the old man's Winnebago, he glanced up just in time to see Walsh haul a thick lookin branch above his head and swing it, full force, at Audrey's face. The kid hadn't even flinched though, even when Daryl was sure Walsh was gonna end up killin her. She just waited him out, calm and fuckin cool as a cucumber, until the former cop was in reach. Then she did some move, jumped into action too quick for Daryl to track, and the edge of that sword of hers had been right up again Walsh's neck. Daryl recalls that fierce triumph that had taken her features, the fire in her eyes, the sweat on her brow as she bared her teeth in some sort of victorious grin or some shit. The kid had seemed…different then. Not like the lost, cryin bitch he had brought back to camp. Not like the goody two shoes that went 'round with the chink and other girl followin her footsteps, lookin to do good deeds. The kid that had Walsh's life literally in the palm of her hands looked like someone…completely different. Someone…

Daryl couldn't place it then and he couldn't damn place it now but either way, he knew the kid could take care of herself. In the day time at least. The night now, that was different. The dark changed things. Made them tricky, misleadin. Plus, Audrey still couldn't find her way out of a damn paper bag. It had taken them twice as long as it should have to even get to the clearin they were in since she kept leadin him in circles. Damn. Didn't they teach anythin useful in the cities?

Thoughts still revolving around her, the hunter spares the young girl a glance out of the corner of his eye. He finds her starin down at the squirrel she's almost finished with, her movements sure if not slow as they slice the critter in edible parts. Daryl's gaze is draw to the deft motions of her hands, the glare of the dyin sun reflectin off his huntin knife. For haulin that sword around, the sword that's currently at their feet, her wrists are thin looking. Her fingers are too, except Daryl knows her palms have calluses on them, rough patches of skin that had caught against his own when he had slapped his knife in her hand and told her what to do. There are scars on her knuckles as well, like she had been in bar fights or some shit, some long and thin, others pockmarked. He half wonders how she got them and half says he doesn't give a flyin shit.

The scars, though, make Daryl lift his eyes to her face, takin in her profile, and the red lines he can see on her cheek. She used to have them bandaged but, after 'bout half an hour under the Georgia sun, the gauze had been soaked with sweat, stingin the cuts, so she torn the shit off and let the wounds air out. She put an antiseptic ointment on, however, to ward off infection, and Daryl wonders as to why the hell those idiots back at camp gave her the whole damn tube. Shit like that was more precious than gold now and the fuckin morons were handin it out like free candy, over a handful of scrapes. Not for the first time, Daryl marvels at how they have survived this long. However, back to the kid's face. The scratches really aren't that bad; Daryl wasn't lyin when he said he had worse. But they do look livid against the kid's pale features, long, angry lookin red lines that crisscross her face in interestin patterns. There's a particular one on the cheek that's facing Daryl that draws his eye. The beginnin of it stretches from the corner of Audrey's eye and arches down the length of her cheek until it curled under her jaw, smooth and uninterrupted. The striking red of it, coupled with the shape, makes it appear as if the kid is cryin blood.

"You're staring at me."

The sound of her voice, after the long endured silence, jars him and Daryl blinks as he realizes he's gazin into the kid's eyes now, not just at the side of her face. A prickling sensation crawls up the nape of his neck and he scowls at her. "No I ain't."

"Yes. You are," she replies, face blank and unaffected by the heat in his words. "You wanna take a picture? It'll last longer."

Daryl hears the teasin note in her voice, sees the smirk that's curlin the side of her mouth, the glint in her eye and fuck her. He scoffs and turns back to the knife that's been sittin in his lap for God knows how long now. "I wasn't starin at ya."

He hears her laugh softly. "You are such a liar, Daryl Dixon. Liars don't make friends ya know."

And something about the heat in his cheeks, the uncomfortable feeling writhin in his gut, makes Daryl spit the next words in Audrey's face. "Ya lied to those idiots back in camp. Aren't they yer friends?" He says the word like an insult, cuz it's meant to be, and Audrey flushes as he calls her out.

"That was different," she mumbles and Daryl barks out a laugh.

"Different cuz it applies to you?" He snorts in disgust, embarrassment makin him curl his lip at her with disdain. "You people are all the same. Gunnin to spout rules and judgments on everyone but when it comes back to you, ya decide to change the rules."

The kid snaps her head up and fixes him with a glare, the flush on her cheeks no longer due to embarrassment. He's pushed her buttons again and now she's spittin fire. "Why the hell is it always 'you people'? What is with your 'us versus' them mentality?" she demands. He doesn't reply and she shakes her head. "Daryl, I don't know if you realize but not everyone is trying to be an asshole to you. Maybe you should show the same fucking courtesy."

The hunter just rolls his eyes but the kid keeps goin. "And, for your information, I didn't tell the rest of them I had gone hunting with you one, because it was none of their goddamn business, and two, I didn't want it getting back to Merle, cuz, let's face it, he isn't my biggest fan," she bites out dryly.

Daryl agrees with her there but doesn't say it. Hell, he doesn't say anything. He just grits his teeth and stands up, not even lookin at the kid as he starts to pack up his gear. She's silent and still for a moment and he can feel those eyes of hers burnin a hole through the back of his head. He doesn't care though so he doesn't look, just slings on his crossbow and sheathes his knife. By the time he's ready, he turns back towards his dryin rack, ready to just grab the meat and leave but the kid's already ahead of him. She's strung the meat on the length of rope he uses for catches, the red slivers and slices dangling from homemade hooks. Around the meat, which is mostly bunched in the center of the rope, she's tied a plastic bag that Daryl doesn't know where the fuck it came from or how she got it. Either way, he doesn't care. It'll block the dirt and grime and bugs from gettin on the meat on the hike back up. Not that Daryl cared if there was dirt on the meat but he knew the other assholes would. Christ. He wishes, not for the first time, that he and Merle had never met them.

Without lookin at her, Daryl reaches out and yanks the rope from her hand, before stalkin off into the trees. He hears her curse, loud and vulgar, followed by the metallic clangs of her wrenchin the dryin rack closed. Not lookin back, he listens as she crashes into the underbrush behind him, quickly catchin up and fallin into step.

The hike back to the camp is silent, just how Daryl fuckin likes it. He keeps his gaze locked in front of him, ears constantly on a swivel, but other than the songs of roostin birds and the ever present Georgia bugs, the only other sounds are the kid's tramplin footsteps behind him. They falter every now and again as she trips on a root or rock, but Daryl doesn't stop. The sun is almost to the horizon by now, skatin across the very edge, and the hunter thinks he can feel a relief in the god awful summer heat comin along. They've almost reached the perimeter of camp, 'bout fifty yards away from the useless piece of shit string of cans them idiots like to call "alarms", when Daryl hears the kid curse behind him again, louder than ever, and suddenly, there's the sound of her gettin closer and her hand's on his arm.

Daryl jerks away from the touch and whirls around, eyes narrowed and mouth a thin line. The kid's expression, instead of bein pissed and irate like he imagined it would be, is soft and open, her lips parted slightly and her emerald eyes wide. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, squaring off in the growing bruised air of twilight, before Audrey sighs and runs a hand through her hair, across her eyes. The motion shakes free flakes of dried blood, the crimson chips dusting across her face, floating through the air.

"Look Daryl," she begins and he notices the tired lilt of her voice. He doesn't relent his glare though and stands with a fist clenched in the strap of his crossbow that is wrapped around his chest. She continues. "I don't want to keep fighting you all right? I just…I…" A groan echoes out of her throat as she gropes for the words and suddenly, her eyes are locked on his, her chin tilted up to look him directly in the face. "I want to keep helping you ok? This shit is hard work, a lot harder than I had first assumed, and it's unfair to leave it all up to you. So, I do want to continue this. But…"

Trailing off, Audrey takes a step forward, bringing her within arms length of Daryl. The hunter tenses, unused to people being in his personal space, and glowers down at her. She purses her lips and her eyes narrow into slivers as she lifts a hand, pointing at his face. "But this…this needs to stop," she says with conviction. Daryl frowns, confused at what she is referring to. His breathing? The fuck.

"What?" he growls at her and she jabs her finger even closer to him.

"That! That right there. The growling and the glaring and the going for my throat every few minutes. Daryl, I can't help you if we keep going rounds. I can't help you if you keep getting pissed off at me and storming away into the woods. So can we just let everything that's happened so far be water under the bridge? Can't we just let bygones be bygones?" she pleads.

Daryl is silent and the kid gets this weird light in her eyes. Maybe it's the evaporating sun that's setting behind Daryl, maybe it's the summer air doin some weird shit, hell maybe Daryl's just dehydrated, but right now, right here, the kid looks like she has real emeralds for eyes, bright, crystal clear, and sharp as hell.

"Come on Daryl," she wheedles quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "Can't we be… friends?"

Her request hangs in the air between them, throbbing, like a pulsing heart. Daryl, not for the first time, is struck dumb by what Audrey has said. Friends? This again? Hasn't he told her he doesn't need friends? He's sure he has. Multiple times. The most recent bein down by the quarry when they made this little truce is the first place. The world has ended and life now is just stayin one step ahead of the walkers, out of their hands and out of their teeth. Friends…friends are more useless now then they had been before. Alliances how, those are a different story. Daryl had an alliance with the people back at camp. A weak one, cuz Daryl was sure one day he was just gonna haul off and shoot one of those bastards, if Merle didn't beat him to it, but it was an alliance nonetheless. The fact of the matter is there is strength in numbers, no matter how stupid those numbers are. More people means more ammo and more ammo means more protection. Theoretically at least. Daryl thinks, if nothin else, more numbers means more bodies between him and the walkers.

But a friend…that's a complication, and a headache, he doesn't need. Schoolin his features into a scowl, Daryl delivers his answer. "I've already told ya. I don't fuckin need or want a friend. Ya deaf or somethin?"

At his words, the kid frowns, the edges of her lips pulled drastically down as her brow pinches sharply together over blazing green eyes. The tenderness from moments ago is gone. "Why?" she bites out.

Daryl would be lyin if he said the venom in her voice didn't surprise him. "Why what?"

"Why are you so hell bent on bein alone?" Her posture and her voice are angry, tight and controlled, but Daryl sees somethin wavering in her eyes, some left over softness, somethin that looks like…pity. It pisses him the hell off cuz who the hell is this kid to pity him? He has all he needs and all he wants.

"I ain't alone. I got Merle. Kin," Daryl snaps. "Anythin else is worthless; unnecessary."

For a moment, the kid's jaw works, her teeth grindin, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. Then she opens her mouth and says, "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."(1) The words are level and monotone with a flat cadence that reminds Daryl of the way he used to memorize shit for school, years and years ago, all indifferent attitude and apathetic hostility.

But what the fuck?

Daryl is thrown for a loop, mind reeling, and he suddenly feels stupid which makes him even angrier. "What the fuck does that mean?" he snarls at her.

"It means," Audrey emphasizes, but her voice has lost its harshness and her shoulders suddenly droop as her annoyance seems to whoosh out of her. She casts him a wearied look, eyes whirlin with her thoughts, and runs a hand through her short hair again. "It means…the world has ended. Now, more than ever, it looks like it's every man for himself. But if everyone takes that route, how are we any different from the walkers?"

"We ain't dead and we ain't lookin to take a bite outta someone."

The kid scowls sharply again and takes a step forward, almost bringin her chest to chest with Daryl. The hunter sneers at her but doesn't take a step back. She didn't intimidate him. "I'm being fucking serious Daryl," she hisses. "If we only look out for ourselves, we lose something of our humanity and fuck, we don't have that much left. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of feeling like prey, like nothing more than a walking piece of meat just biding time until my time is up. I don't know about you…but I want to feel human again."

Daryl feels something twitch in him at her words, a common thread, a similar sentiment. He had always been the hunter, since he was no more than a kid himself. But, since the world had gone tits up, he had gone from bein the hunter to the hunted. It sucked, fuckin royally. However, Daryl didn't complain, didn't bitch and whine. Dixons don't do that shit. Merle and their father had taught Daryl that at a young age; the younger man had the scar to prove it. Dixons don't complain; they just took the crap the world threw at them and kept on goin, middle finger raised and not givin a flyin shit. However…Daryl would be lyin through his teeth if he said that he hasn't thought something similar to what the kid had just said a few times since this shit started.

How the fuck did this kid always seem to always be right?

Seein as Audrey has stuck a cord in him, caught him unawares with the truth in her statement, Daryl feels the scowl on his lips lessen and some of his anger bleed out of him. But he is a Dixon and that meant he isn't easily, or completely, diffused. "I still don't see how the hell this got anythin to do with friends," he responds gruffly but the kid just smiles. It was small, just a quirk of her lips, but it is there.

"Because friends are the ultimate source of humanity. When you're losing yourself, they're there to pull you back and vice versa. They can keep you sane, keep you grounded. And a true friend will do their best to keep you alive, if nothing else. Kind of useful in an apocalypse no?"

Daryl refuses to answer that question because hell if it doesn't make sense. Daryl doesn't need friends; he had told that to himself long ago, when Merle had given him his first real beat down after he came home from kindergarten, a drawing in his hand from a little colored boy named Ted who had said they should be friends. From then on, he stayed away from people, snarled when they got to close, and responded with his fists when they didn't leave him the fuck alone. Friend was a bad word, taboo, vulgar, and Daryl did his best to erase it from his vocabulary.

And yet, as he opens his mouth to tell her this, his eyes take in the scratches that score her face, the track of blood that looks like tears tracin across her cheek, the foldin rack that's tucked under her arm, and the gore she's covered in, up to her thin damn wrists. And then, some traitorous little voice that Daryl has tried to never listen to, that's always popped up when Merle's doin some stupid shit and askin his baby brother to follow, jumps right to the forefront of the hunter's mind, not to be ignored. "Looks like you don't really have a say in the matter," it says and Daryl thinks about what that means. Here this kid is, in the middle of the woods with him, covered in blood that's half hers and half animal's, to help him do a job that had always been his, since day one. A job no one else questions, a job everyone else expects him to finish with no questions asked. And, even after everythin Daryl had…even after the way he's acted towards her, which was the way he acted towards everyone, she's here again, offerin a truce, an implied forgiveness, and somethin Daryl has never experienced. Somethin that the younger Dixon is suddenly realizin she's already given. Cuz who other than a friend would put up with this shit and stick around more? No one, that's who; not even Daryl's own kin.

Well…fuck.

"Daryl," Audrey says and the hunter snaps back into focus. It's harder to find the kid's eyes, he quickly discovers, her face is cast in stark relief, all shadows and blurred lines, and it appears that while Daryl had been lost in his head, night has finally fallen.

"Shit," he curses under breath, turnin his head to look up the hill towards camp.

Daryl can see the dim orange glow of the fires and can slightly hear their voices, carried on the wind, hushed and muttered whispers. He doesn't think he imagines the hue of worry in the raised voices, nor the sharpenin edge of hostility. Double shit. Daryl just knows the arguments are about the kid. She's been gone far too long. Turnin back towards her, Daryl jerks his chin back up the hill, lips pinched.

"Gotta get back 'fore Walsh sends the whole fuckin cavalry after ya." Audrey bites her lip, he can still see that, and looks like she wants to say somethin else but Daryl growls and reaches out to yank her forward. His hand catches one of her wrists, the skin soft beneath his fingers but gritty with dirt and dried blood. He releases her as soon as she is level with him, havin stumbled the last couple feet to his side. "Listen, I know ya have more shit to say but time's up. If ya aren't back in that camp in the next ten seconds, Walsh is gonna come chargin through the trees and I don't want an ass full of pellets." Daryl hopes that the loss of the sun and the urgency of his tone might make the kid drop her previous topic but, of course, no such fuckin luck.

"Then answer my question," she demands of him, chin tilted in defiance and emerald eyes blazin a path into his own, bright as hell even in the dark. She's so close that Daryl can feel her breath on his neck, feel the tension in her muscles. He scowls done at her but suddenly he can hear Walsh shout somethin and Daryl just doesn't have the goddamn energy to argue with this kid.

"Fine," he grinds out. "I'll stop fightin ya so ya can keep helpin. But the friend shit…"

That just ain't him, ain't Dixon.

Audrey huffs out and irritated breath, the puff of air skating across the stubble on Daryl's chin and neck. He thinks she's about to argue, so he opens his mouth to stop her, but she beats him to the punch. "What about a partner then? Could we be partners?"

Daryl blinks at her proposal, rejection on his tongue again, but then he realizes he can find no fault in it. Partners. Partners were like allies; no unnecessary emotional attachment yet mutual benefit. Partners was sensible. Partners…Daryl could do.

"Ya alright. Partners," he agrees roughly. "But don't go spoutin shit to the chink or anyone else. Bunch of gossips will make sure Merle finds out and if that happens…" Daryl trails off, leavin his implication dangling in the air.

The kid suddenly smiles at him, teeth a flash of white in the darkness, and parts her lips to say something but, before she can, there's a rustle in the brush beside them and Daryl is wrenchin up his crossbow before anyone can blink.

"Jesus Christ!" the chink cries out, his slanted eyes crossed as he stares at the point of Daryl's arrow that's just brushin his nose. "I…I just have to pee man. Please don't kill me."

Audrey's laughter echoes in the air and Daryl grinds his teeth to keep from smirkin at the chink's terrified expression and the fact that, Christ, he thinks the kid has wet his pants.

(1) Quote by C.S. Lewis

Alright so sorry this chapter took so long :/ Had a long week. Also, i apologize for the overall shortness and crapiness of the chapter as well . I wanted to get something out before too much time had passed but I promise to have a longer better chapter up sometime this week :) Spring Break after all lol.

Still, please remember to review and to all those who reviewed last time thank you so much! :D You guys are awesome ^^ Keep it up.

~Shadows

PS: OH! So, Norman Reedus (Daryl) is in a city near me and I am totally seeing him tomorrow...erm...today 0.o Whatever XD It's really late/early right now and I am tired but way to excited to sleep. As an extra incentive, all those who review can ask me questions about the best day of my life lol