Chapter Four

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect., are the property of their respective owners.  The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Warnings: Rated Mature for language, gore and adult situations.  Readers under the age of 18 are discouraged from reading.

Scars of Survival
Chapter Four

“True love burns the brightest, But the brightest flames leave the deepest scars.”

November 2006

Five months have passed since the unexpected passing of my father.  It was still beyond hard for me to except and the already strained relationship with my mother suffered all the more for it. 

To me she might as well have died right along with him.  Daryl tried to tell me more than once that I was just angry and to give it time.  We have several heated debates when it came to that argument, but in the end I knew he was right. After all, at one point my dad did love her to pieces, she was just too crazy for her own good.  In the end I gave her what forgiveness I could, which wasn’t much but it was still something.

Can’t say it started out that way, though.

At first, I adamantly refused to even speak with her.  She wailed and balled at his funeral, which was the biggest event Trenton had seen in a good long while but for the most part I ignored her, or tried to.

When the service had concluded she had tried once again to speak with me, despite Daryl’s growled out warnings for her to just leave me alone.  She didn’t take the hint and it didn’t end well.  Basically, it took two of my dad’s patch brothers and Daryl to pry me off her junked out body.  Yeah, she was higher than New York sky scraper then pissed n’ moaned to everybody about her ’copin’ and bitched about her ungrateful daughter.  That didn’t exactly go down well with my the ’family’ and she was asked to leave sometime later.  I didn’t stick around to watch, Daryl and I were to busy drowning our blues and celebrating his life.

It wasn’t until September when I could even look at her without being sick and it was only because she had sighed up for a four week treatment at a rehab facility in Chattanooga.  I wished her luck but told her I was in no way ready to deal with her yet. 

Then on September 20th another bomb dropped.  My grandfather.

He died in his sleep on Wednesday, September 20th at around three in the morning. It was peaceful, or so I was told. He was on far to much morphine for him to have felt any pain.  Hearing that brought me comfort but the pain in my heart almost buried me alive. 

My grandpa, my father’s father was at one time my whole world.  He lived with us from the time I was born until I was thirteen, for reason I think I’m just now beginning to understand, didn’t matter any more now anyways.  The point was, that while mom and dad were off at Bike Week and Sturgis he was right there at home with me.  He taught me many things, firstly was how to gut and skin a deer.  A fond memory. 

His loss so close after my fathers was harder on me that I was willing to admit at the time. 

I tired to play it off, like everything was fine… like I was fine.  But the hard, cold, truth of the matter was that I wasn’t.  I was no were near.  I think it was Jerry or Jack that ultimately noticed first.  Daryl would have I’m sure, had he been around but that was partially my fault as well.  He was trying to finish a key job Lexington, Kentucky before John Logan could pull the job.  John was having trouble with wife number six and I had the feeling she was about to pull the wool straight over his eyes sometime real soon. 

Damn it all, I really hated being right some time. 

Sure enough not even a week after Poppy died did John Logan go belly-up, and was looking at some serious jail time as well.  Something about insurance fraud.  So Daryl had been back in Dalton scavenging for work.  

When Jerry and Jack approached me on my new “attitude” towards life I begged them not to say anything to Daryl.  It was in my firm opinion that a crazed, grieving girlfriend was the last thing he needed on his plate right now.  I should have known something was up when they both eagerly agreed to keep my secret.  So I wasn’t all that surprised when Merle showed up one night outta the blue and told me “I needed t’ pull ma head out’ta my ass!” 

That didn’t go over well with me… at all.  By the end of the night (poor) Merle had more lumps on his head than I could count and I owed Jerry a case of new ashtrays.  Merle had been right though, when he told me I needed to release the evil.  Even so, I doubt he’d ever look at a glass ashtray the same, ever.  We sat forever on the hardwood floors of Backwoods, drinking and blubberin’ - okay so maybe I was just blubberin’, but I got out everything I needed to say. 

By the time I woke up the next morning, having slept fully dressed in my recliner with Merle snoring away on my couch, I felt better - sans the hangover.  Not only that but I had a brand new message blinking at me from my answering machine.   It was from Daryl and he sounded about as giddy as I’ve ever heard him.  Of course, Merle teased me the whole time the message played so I couldn’t understand everything he said but I did get the jest of it.  Be packed and ready for Thanksgiving Day Weekend.  Apparently we were goin’ on a trip.  The two of us.

He showed up that Thursday morning with Bells on, looking good enough in his lose-fitted denim and black thermal that I almost had to postpone our departure. 

He smiled at me, that little mole curling his lips into a dangerous grin before he stepped forward and whispered in my ear.  “We ain’t got the time.” 

The trip surprisingly wasn’t a long one and I had to say I was completely off my game when he pulled into his home town of Dalton.  I eyed him suspiciously from where I sat, my eyes narrowing into slits as I questioned what in the hell he might be doing.  He ignored me but kept chuckling to himself and muttering under his breath.  I was ready to wallop him by the time he shifted the truck into park, so much so that I was ignorant to the small two-story house we pulled up in front off. 

“Well,”  he said nervously as he went to town chewin’ his right thumbnail.  “What’da think?” 

Looking at him with probably one of the stupidest faces known to man, I asked.  “Huh?”  Stellar.

He must have realized I had no idea what he was talkin’ about, cause he snorted loud and shook his head before jutting his previously chewed on thumb at the windshield.  “Th’ house, dummy.” 

Still not completely understanding what was happening, I complied.  And then nearly died of shock.  For being a house as old as it was, it was beautiful. A small and quaint farmhouse with new white siding, freshly painted black shutters and a wrap around porch. Perfect for a young couple starting out in life.

“Daryl,”  I gasped, turning my shocked brown eyes on him.  “It’s beautiful.” 

His smirk grew then, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief.  “Good.”  he stated with a smug nod to himself.  “Woman ought to like ’er own house.” 

My head swiveled to the house, taking in how stunning it was before my eyes darted back to him.  His face was just inches from mine.  “W-what?”

He just shook his head.  “C’mon, let go have uh look at yer new kitchen.”  He said, grabbing my hand and dragging me across the seat and out his door.  I pulled back almost immediately. 

“Wait Daryl! What are you saying?” 

He sighed, fingering his goatee. “Ya heard me perfectly fine.” 

Smiling then.  “Daryl, are you asking me to move in with ya?” 

“Nope.”  I think I just blinked at him.  Then he got this really determined look on his face as he cupped both of my cheeks in his warm hands and stated. “No, I ain’t askin’.”  He didn’t have to add the “I’m telling you.” part for me to understand what his eyes were screamin’ at me. 

When I didn’t say anything he nodded to himself and muttered.  “Glad ya understand then.”  and started dragging me up the stairs and through the front door, ignoring my protests the entire way.

“Daryl, wait… what about my job? What about my apartment?”   I yelled at his back.  “What about-”  Everything I was going to say died in my throat the moment he walked me over the threshold. 

“My god…”  I whispered to myself.  With wide eyes, full of tears I looked at him.  “Daryl…” 

He just nodded, gesturing for me to explore.  “G’on then.” 

Like a squealing kid at Toy’s R’ Us I went barreling through the small foyer and into the living-room. Then the kitchen/Dinning and out onto the herb room in the back.  For a good five minutes I just stood there, staring out into the tree-line that lined the back property.  I couldn’t believe he did this. 

The house was totally renovated, almost fully furnished and all done to my tastes.  Everything from the dove gray walls and white trim, to the black finished furniture and dark hardwood floors.  Everything was how I wanted it.

Flabbergasted.  In complete awe.  Humbled.

But it also begged the question: How did he know?

A pair of strong, heavily muscled arms surrounded me then as a pair of lips kissed my crown.  “Ya know Merle thinks we shoul’ start uh grow farm in here.” 

I snorted. “Yeah, Merle would say somethin’ like that.”

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”  He grunted.

“How did you do this?” 

His arms released me as he took up one of the white wicker benches.  “Ben’ workin’ on it here n’ there.”  he shrugged. 

Shaking my head I took my own seat on top of his thighs.  “That’s not what I mean n’ ya know it.” 

He muttered something quietly before shaking his head.  “What was that? I didn’t quiet catch it?” 

“Awe Hell.”  he sighed.  “I saw ya playin’ round on fuckin’ piece of shit computa an saw the house yer were messin’ with.”

I think my mouth fell open at that point.  Last year in October, Jack’s girlfriend Shirly gave me some free software that she lifted from the Architecture firm she worked for as something for me to do at night when Daryl was out of town.  It was really silly but after a while I really got into it, but still…

“But…”

“No.”  He held his hand out.  “Don’t want ya mad at me.”

“Mad?”  I asked, lifting a brow in defiance.  Now he had me really intrigued. 

He mumbled again, this time cursing.  “I had yer daddy bust inta yer computer.” 

“You mean he gave you my password?”

He just nodded and hung his head.  I giggled at him and his foolishness.  “Daryl, ya big dumb-ass, I’m not mad.  But how long have ya been workin’ on this.” 

“Christmas.”  He said.  “Well, what yer answer?”

“Thought you weren’t askin.” 

He smiled ruefully, his hands sliding up to my hips as he pushed his impressive erecting against my core.  “I ain’t. 

“Daryl!”  I moaned which only made him smirk more.

“C’mon, woman.”  He stated as he stood, taking me with him.  “We got us house’t christen.”

~

“Christ!”

“Daryl’ll do jus’ fine.”  He grunted from the apex of my thighs before his tongue circled again and had me screaming his name in tandems.

If not for the delicate situation we were in, I might have hit him with one of the new frying pans laid out on the counter next to me but I’d be damned if I’d stop him now. 

“Ya like that, don’tcha?”  He asked huskily as he bit gently into slick folds of my pussy.  It was painful yet blissful and I couldn’t think coherently enough to answer him.  “Naw, I know ya like it.” 

“Fuck, Daryl!” 

With another lick and a hard suck on my clit he lifted his head and smirked.  “We’ll get there.” 

I really don’t know why he decided that deflowering the kitchen countertop was such a priority but he was adamant to have me there as soon as his ass left that wicker bench.  But it was amazing.

Rough calloused fingers and warm thin lips spurred me again and again until I was bucking wildly against his mouth and he was struggling to keep me pinned. 

“DARYL!”
.
.
.

~ Present Day ~
“So it’s true then,”  a gruff but not unpleasant voice sneered.  “you really do know that Hillbilly.”  It was definitely a statement and not a question.

It took me all of five seconds to realize that the voice looming over me was real, which made the reality that I wasn’t in fact in bed with Daryl all that much more harsh.  It was just a dream.

With that realization, my eyelids flew open but my vision took a little longer to return than I would have liked.  My scan of the my surroundings was the same, too slow.  Slow gets you killed. 

A quick assessment of the situation at hand was that I was in some type of late model R.V.  I was lying in a bed.  My legs were bare.  There was an unfamiliar man in here with me.  I couldn’t see out of my left eye.  I was panicking. 

“You awake?”  he asked a moment later and while the old me would have simply spit out some smartass comment, the new me was a tad bit more volatile than that when frightened. 

My eyes snapped to his and I couldn’t contain the shriek that rose up in my chest at his close proximity.  Close enough that I could tell his eyes were a dark shade of chestnut and not black like they would appear from a distance. 

My fist struck out almost immediately following my shriek, and so followed the sound of cartilage crunching under it.  He cried out, in pain or rage, I didn’t know but the fucker stumbled back, clutching both of his palms to his face and that was all the break I needed. 

Lunging from the bed in my best attempt to clear the bulking man entirely, I made a mad dash for the daylight spilling in through the open door.  He made a grab for my ankle but as he eyes were still watering his side swipe missed but it startled me all the same and I shrieked again.  It was my worst nightmare coming true, again.

The light blinded me as I all but fell down the two metal stairs that led me to the ground.  I was sobbing blindly by that time and could hardly see where I was going but that didn’t stop me from darting around frantically, looking for some means of escape.

With my heart thudding in my chest and tears streaming down my face, I realized a little late that it was of little use.  Being bare from the waist down, with no weapon, food or shelter left no chance at survival.  So with bodies closing in all around me, I shrank into the metal siding of the R.V. my right eye still scanning for anything that could be used as a weapon.

“No one is going to hurt you.”  A voice called out, decidedly male but it was older, cultured.  “No one will hurt you.”  the voice reaffirmed.  Yeah buddy, tell that to my face. 

Lifting my head, I searched out the voice but with so many standing around, gawking at me like I was a blimp in the Macy’s Day Parade it was hard to pinpoint just who it might have come from.  It took all of three seconds to decided I should have never lifted my head.  There where so many men milling about, all of them staring, that I felt that familiar lump in my throat starting to strangle me.  I didn’t want these men to finish what the others had started.  I’m not sure I could handle that, not anymore. 

“Stay away from me.” I tried to growl, which worked with how parched my throat was.  God, it was on fire.  Raw and scratchy, like I just swallowed a porky-pine.  “Stay-”  Whatever I had planned to say died instantly the moment I heard the heavy footfalls coming out of the motor home next to me.  I knew who it was without looking.  Big n’ Terrifying was coming back for round two and this time I didn’t have the element of surprise.  

There was no way on God’s green earth, the pits of Hell or another planet would I win a struggle against a man like him.  With a single ghosting from the corner of my good eye I could tell I had made a correct assumption earlier about him being gigantic.  He was.  He had to be at least as tall as Daryl but that wasn’t was scared me, nor was it the good forty pounds he had on my fiancé. It was his eyes.

It was easy to spot a psychopath when you’ve been in recent encounters with them.  He had the same sickness in his eyes.  Dark and devoid of life.  Like his whole world had been stripped from him and was surrounded by pain and guilt.  And he was pissed as Hell about it.  He could go to Hell if he was so inclined, everyone of us still living have lost something or someone.  Who where these pissed off bastards to think they were special?

So with that, my plans of fight or flight turned to sit and wait.  It was all I could do anyways and I knew eventually, someone would slip up.

My newly concocted plan of shrinking in on myself until someone got sloppy, like last time, came to an abrupt halt when thundering footfalls came sprinting towards me.  Even though it was coming at me from a direction I couldn’t see due to the gauze covering my eye, I could tell from sound alone that this was a big person.  Much bigger than the man on the other side of me.  Panic was setting in again, and the flight response was renewed, until I heard his growly, gravel voice.

“Stupid sum’bitch.”  It growled, huffing like a fat man forced to run a 100 meter dash.  I would know that heavy breathing if I were completely blind It was from many years of snorting chemicals, and what happens to the septum when it is overly abused.  “Told ya’t stay outta there.”

My head snapped around, eyes darting in every direction until they landed on him.  “Merle?”  I gaped, not completely believing what I was seeing yet.  It could have very well been an hallucination on my part.  It had happened once before, in a very similar situation.

Crossing his massive arms over his equally massive chest, he grinned.  “Ya got it, sugar’tits.” 

With fresh tears pouring from my eyes, I charged forward into a crooked run and barely caught myself as my barefoot skimmed over a rock I couldn’t see.  Enormous arms stopped my fall and lifted me into something I never thought I’d ever live to feel again, a hug.  It hurt like a motherfucker, and he smelled worse than a dead animal but I couldn’t give a retch.  I was safe.

Sobbing like a dying cat into his chest, Merle laughed.  “Ya’know, little brother’s gonna tan that ass when he see’s ya already pickin’ fights.”  Which earns him a few chuckles from the others and a growl from the man who ended up on the wrong end of the deal in said fight.  Of course, in Merle fashion he tacks on.  “Darlina’s gonna fuck yer brains out tha’ first chance he gets.” 

Finally, in what seems like a lifetime, I laugh.  A true, genuine laugh.  Taking a peek from my perch in his arms I can tell the others are speechless.  Join the club, folks.  If someone had told me three months ago that I’d be dangling from Merle Dixon’s arms like a yard ornament, I’d be speechless too. 

“Lilli’ann!”  A shout is heard from a distance. The voice makes my heart flutter and my body shake.  Now faced with the chance at seeing him again, I’m scared and all the stupid insecurities about my appearance comes flooding back.  I duck my head.

Merle scoffs as he draws me back enough to look at me.  “He’s already seen ‘em, ain’t no use hidin’ like a pussy now.” 

“LILLI’ANN!”  The voice calls again, closer, louder and more frantic.  I hope he doesn’t have a stroke before he makes it out of the woods.  Either way, I nearly bursting at the seems to see his face and without a conscious thought, I start to struggle in Merle’s arms.

Merle chuckles again, this time it is a chuckle I can recognize, he’s about to say something bad.  “Well, little dove, I guess this mean ya can’t take advantage of me, like I knew you’d been dreamin’ ‘bout.” 

I smack his shoulder, deliriously happy, even with Merle’s crude remark and he sets me down just as my hunter comes barreling out of the trees.  He stops where he is and stares, like he can’t believe it’s really me.  But grudgingly, I can’t blame him as I’m sure these days I look more like Frankenstein’s Bride than his. 

Using this rare moment of shock that Daryl’s fallen into, I take the time to commit the image to memory.  He’s thinner than I remembered, but I guess we all were these days.  Dirtier too.  He needed a hair cut, a bath and a shave.  But he was still my Daryl. 

Feeling a bit more like myself with a snickering Merle at my back and a stunned Daryl in front of me, I did what I’ve always done best to lighten the mood.  I snark.  “Cat got yer tongue, Dixon?  C’mon now, what would Merle say?”

Of course, Merle hoots like the idiot he is from behind me and mutters something about “mouthy bitches” but at this point I can say without doubt that I ignored him. At hearing my smartass comment Daryl’s face lightens into something I can only describe as a mixture of amusement and longing.  Which means he found my inappropriate comment funny but he still found nothing humorous about this.

Finally he starts to advance towards me and I send up a silent thank you because at the moment I feel like I’m wearing concrete shoes.  His smiles turns up a little, his perfect mole, curling his grin just a little more.  But his eyes are on fire.  “He’d say nice fuckin’ rack. Can I play with ’em?”

Merle is falling to pieces behind me but once again I tune him out because Daryl is standing so close I can practically smell the forest on him.   I smile a little shyly and for the life of me, I don’t know why.  Daryl and I have never been shy, sure we were never big on PDA but this was…  “Yeah, I guess he-”

Before I can finish I pulled roughly into his arms and spun around, and I know why right away.  He spun himself away from the group as his tears soaked the collar of the oversized shirt that I had no clue how I ended up in.  “God,”  he whispers.  “Oh god…”  His voice is cracked and breaking under the strain of his emotions and my heart melts to be in his arms again. 

His head lifts slightly and wet blue eyes take in my face, making me uncomfortable but not entirely.  I know he’s looking at me and not the bandages, though I can still  see the curiosity lingering behind those baby blues.  Not sure I’m ready for that just yet.  I just got used to them and if I knew Daryl even half as well as I thought I did, he was going to go nuclear the moment he got a good look.

“I missed you, Daryl.”  I tell him.  “So much…”  and then his lips were on mine, furious and fast, like he might devour me alive to keep me with him forever. 

Footsteps breaking away immediately put me on edge and I jerk away instinctively.  I needed to know what was going on but feel silly and foolish when I realize that the strangers around me have dispersed and left Daryl and I to our own devices.  But not before the gentle voice from before reminds Daryl that I would need to have my bandages replaced today. 

Daryl only nodded into the crook of my neck but the old man should be happy he got that much out of Daryl while he was this upset.  Usually, unless you were me, you’d have something hurled at your head, most likely his fist.

His forehead rests on mine for a single minute before he pulls back and picks me up without word, stalking down a dirt path with an amused Merle hot on our heels.