Chapter Two

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 Two

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

With a groan I turned my head, trying to fight back the nausea and blinding headache I’ve seem to acquire somewhere.  My vision was still blurry and did nothing to stop the small space around me from spinning.

June 2003

“Fuck!”  I cursed, slamming a bottle of Jack back behind the bar, pissed at myself for being so distracted I used Jack instead of Jim in Pat’s drink. 

Jerry smirked at me from the till, where he spent most nights he frequented the bar to pal around with his friends and watch me work.  Fuckin’ old fart.  “Somethin’ on you’re mind there, Jer?”  I asked him in a huff.  He just winked and shook his head.  He and I both knew he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything when I was this angry.

Fixing my mistake quickly, I turned to Pat with a smile and told him no charge as I downed the fuck-up I’d made.  It had been so long since I’d made a bad drink and didn’t catch myself that Jerry only nodded in agreement.  What was one free shot to a customer that had been coming in for the last fifteen years.  Fuck, even I wasn’t that loyal.

“Table in corner s’wavin’ ya down, Lilly Pad.”  Jerry whispered amusedly in my ear.  I smacked his face with my bar rag, looked up and groaned.  Sure enough, that big muscle-bound bastard was waving his beer in the air like it was a fuckin’ rescue flag.  And of course to my disbelief and annoyance my mother sat happily next to him, sipping on some cheap, gas-station blush.  It disgusted me more than anyone would ever know.

It was what had me in a shitty mood to begin with.  Not even two hours into my shift at Backwoods did my mother and her honey of the month come straggling in, dilated pupils and all.  Pissed me right off.  Fuckin’ old bitch didn’t even drink.  The man my mother introduced to me as Merle; big fucker with an even bigger mouth, had tried to strike up polite and some not polite conversation with me several times.  He quickly found out that I was in no more of a mood to put up with either of their bullshit as I was willing pull my eyes out with hot pokers.  It was almost funny the way he seemed genuinly put out by my not so subtle distaste of him in general.

Finally when he realized I had no intentions in entertaining him at his table did he make his way across the dirty, peanut filled floor to me.  He plopped that big country ass of his right down onto the stool in front of me and stared. 

“Dollar for you’re thoughts?”  I asked testily, ignoring his stare completely and going on about my shift work. 

He chuckled slightly, sliding his big meaty had towards the edge and placing his empty beer in my sights.  “Though’ it was a’penny?” 

Growling I lifted my head.  “Yes, well I always pay more at the carnival for the freak-show.”  I slid a brand new bottle of Bud his way, twisting of the cap without much thought.  “What tha fuck you want?” 

“Did you just imply I’s stupid, little girl?”  He asked a bit of his temper shining through. 

I shrugged my shoulders at him.  “You hang around my momma, you can’t exactly be bright.” 

He was just about to say something derogatory, I was sure of it when the double door of the bar swung open and in walked a sandy haired man with what looked to me like a permanent scowl on his face.

And I think my mouth fell into the beer I was pouring.  Possibly drool too.

He stood in the doorway for a few seconds scanning the room once before zeroing in on the bar.  I’ll even admit I couldn’t help but ogle him over my shoulder.  Around six foot tall, dirty-blonde hair, tan skin and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.  They distinctly reminded me of the Georgian summer sky. He was by far the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on, until he opened his mouth and ruined everything.

Mystery man smirked suddenly and I felt my face grow hot, that was until I realized he wasn’t smirking at me but at that tree-sized asshole who was still blubberin’ to get my attention.  “Hey bro.”  He called quietly, saddling up beside senior dick-head which to me, made him junior dick-head.  I wanted to weep at all that manly goodness down the drain.

“What’ll ya have?”  I asked politely but a little off-putting. 

His eyes jerked up as if he had just realized I was here and his eyes did a lazy sweep of me from head to toe.  I think I growled at him. 

“Budwizer.”  he replied just as fast, before turning to the redwood-sized fucker and striking up a conversation about pouring footers and setin’ up rebar.

When I realized they were both working for John Logan - a very good friend of the family - I wanted to fucking hurl that bottle of beer straight through the mirror behind me that held Jerry’s office.  I knew that prick was sitting back there, feet up on the desk and laughing his skinny ass off.  I should have noticed the shirt when Merle walked in, guess the fact that my cranked-out, pill junkie of a mother was hangin’ of his arm kinda distracted me. 

Passing off his beer without another comment, I raced down to the other end of the bar and struck up a conversation with Pat, Jody and Jack, trying to forget about the hot redneck and his asshole of a brother at my back.

Pat smiled at my ruffled appearance, sliding his trucker hat from his head and rubbing his fast growing bald spot.  Jack chuckled under his breath and Jody sat there with a lost but happy look on her face, because well lets face it she was trashed.  “Somethin’ rufflin’ yer feathers this fine evenin’, Lill?” 

Jack mumbled something under his breath but looked up and winked.  Bastard. 

“Nothing’ a shot of Jager won’t handle.”  I replied snarkily and threw up the dice for him to roll for music. 

“It’s on me then.”  Jack said with a big grin.  Jack was basically the sugar-daddy of Backwoods and I can’t begin to tell you how much tail I’ve seen him take out those front doors.  He wasn’t a bad looking man for his age, just very far from my type.  I groaned at the thought, my type of man was sitting just at the other end of my bar, happily chatting up the bane of my existence. 

It wasn’t long after that, that my mother must of felt lonely and plopped her grimy, flirty and more than drunk ass right between what I’ve come to know as the Dixon Boys.  She played all hurt when I refused to serve her anymore until I hissed a reminder in her ear that she could fuckin’ kill herself with that much alcohol on-top of whatever the fuck she was hyped up on at the moment.  She shut-up and stopped pouting after that. 

For the majority of the night, things went well.  Pat even gave us a drunken strip tease on top of the pool table which sent the whole bar into hysterics.  But as the night dwindled past my regulars bed times and started filling with the mouthier younger crowd I got the distinct feeling of being watched.  I eyed Jack once and he nodded, confirming my suspicions.  He was my eyes after dark, as I liked to call him.  Ex-special forces and hell of a nice man, always kept his trained eye lurking for danger.  Apparently he had noticed the younger Dixon brother staring too.

Just as I got fed up with the collage idiots in the corner I jumped up on to the bar, right in front of the ‘hot redneck’ and cracked that ‘Round Bell’ with a grin the size of Texas.  He just stared at me all lost and confused while Merle shouted out something about a table dance.  I flipped the fucker off. The neglected him a free drink. 

“What’d ya do to ‘er?”  I heard Daryl (apparently) ask Merle in a hushed whisper but over the bar music it came out more like a shout.  I had to turn my head to laugh and Jack caught my eye and raised his glass of Brandy-wine.  Disgusting shit!  But I did a shot with him anyways.

Not a moment later, Merle raised up his tree-limb sized arm, nearly knocking my poor fucked-up mother right out of her stool.  Is it bad that I would have laughed?  And yelled.  “Alright, Girly!  I got a bone to pick wit ya!”  He winked.  “A big one!”

Jack just shook his head and palmed his face at the idiot that was about to ‘git’ his ass chewed on by a five-foot-two barmaid. 

He smiled smugly as I approached, like the bastard just won first prize at the state fair.  His brother watched me warily as I approached and I think he understood a little better than his older brother did about what was fixing to happen.  Even Jerry had made a re-appearance from his office to make sure shit didn’t get too far outta hand. 

“Merle, right?”  I asked him, narrowing my eyes at my mother all about to start puking where she sat.  He nodded, all the smiles and good humor gone from his face as he waited for me to finish.  Possibly the first polite thing I’d seen him do thus far.  “I’m gonna make this real simple for ya, that way ya don’t waist anymore of them brain cells yer gonna need for lightin’ yer foil later on.” 

Daryl’s head jerked up then, his eyes darting from me to Merle’s as he waited for some kind of response to my insult.  “The next time ya decide to come in here with my doped up mother on yer arm.  Don’t!” 

He went to open his mouth to retort but I cut him off with my hand, gesturing to the ’We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone’ sign hanging right behind my head.  “Get the fuck out!”  Pointing towards my own kin, slumped over I snarled.  “Both of ya!

Merle looked at me, then to Daryl who was smirking again but made no move to stand along side his brother as he stood to depart.  He sneered then.  “Yer a real mouthy fuckin’ bitch, ain’tcha?”

I caught Jack starting to stand out of my peripheral and held my hand up for him to wait.  “Fuckin’ believe it asshole and make like a bunny!”

He did, most grudgingly and headed for the door my collapsed mother under his arm.  He stopped just shy of opening the door before he called back.  “Fuckin’ bitch!”

Jerry raced for me the same time my body lurched forward but the shot glass in my hand hurtled from my hand, shattering on impact against the swinging door where Merle had just stood. 

The bar went completely silent for a full minute before cheers erupted from all round as my loyal patrons tipped their glasses at me.  Jerry stood behind me chuckling as he filled a large tub with my shot of choice before handing it to me and telling me to take ten.  Gladly. 

The back ally was still teaming with cars, some from the left over late-nighters and others from my regulars that lacked the driving capabilities to get themselves home when they left.  I laughed to myself when I noticed Pat’s rig still sitting there and I wondered out of him or Jody who was actually better off to drive.  It really didn’t matter, they always made it home.  I drove past their place every night and although one night I did happen to notice Jody’s Toyota nearly sitting in the middle of their front porch, it was always there in the yard, somewhere.

The sound of the back door opening, and roar of the jukebox pulled me from my musings, followed by the flick of a bic lighter.  I looked up, not really startled but a little surprised Daryl had chosen to follow me out her after I had just handed his older brother his ass.  “You the reason that sign that says: Beware of Bartender sittin’ behind tha’ register?”  He asked quietly. 

Laughing a little at his amused face, I replied.  “Sure am. Four years runnin’.”  I replied with a smile, perhaps a bit proud.  It might not sound like a lot to anyone else but I was proud I could keep old dickheads that acted like small children in line.  I thought of it as Daycare for adults. 

“Four years, huh?  How old are ya?”  He asked his eyes almost pleading with me to be at close to the same age as he was.  I almost laughed and told him eighteen but decided to give the guy a brake.  “Twenty-three. You?”  

“Tweny’-eigh’.”  he replied after blowing out a sigh of relief. 

I did laugh that time.  “Was that relief I heard, Dixon?” 

“Kinda,”  he muttered.  “Would’a felt kind’a wrong askin’ ya out if ya weren’t legal.” 

Looking up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, I blurted out the first thing in my brain.  “I work at a bar, Daryl.” 

He just shrugged his shoulders, thrusting his thumb into his mouth and goin’ to work like he was in a rib eatin’ contest.  I almost felt bad when I realized I’d made him nervous.  I guess this was his tick.  Mine was a little less obvious. 

“So will ya?”  He asked suddenly, looking down on me with those heavenly baby blues.

“What?”  I asked thoroughly confused. Did he ask me something?

He shrugged again, wearing his shoe through the gravel of the parking lot.  “Ya’know, let me buy ya-”

I cut him off there.  And I hated to do it, I really did. Because lets face it, I was already smitten with this Joe and I hardly knew anything about. 

“Don’t waste you’re breath, the answers no.” 

His face fell immediately and I felt like such an ass.  “Is it ’cause of ma brother?”  He asked, a little hopeful.

“No,”  I replied, shaking my head as I stood.  I put my arm on his shoulder.  “It’s because you work for John Logan.  I have no interest in getting shacked up with you for a couple of months just for you to leave town in the end.  I’ve spent my entire adult life and some of my teenage years fending off Logan’s boys, I’m not going to fuck that up now.  I’m sorry Daryl, I really do like you.”  I popped up on my tip-toes and kissed the little mole that made his smirk curl just a little more before I turned and headed back inside.

.
.
.

August 2003

That wasn’t the last night that Daryl asked me out, and for a while I seriously thought about taking him up on his offer.  It had been nearly three months since the Dixon boys swung into town and turned it upside down.  Not that I would expect any less from those two.  And for three months Daryl had asked me out at least once a week.  Even Jack started to feel bad for the guy and that shit was rare.  Jack was very much  like an older brother, that would and did beat the shit out of most men that turned my way. 

Hell, the boy had even gotten Merle to apologize, well in his own Merle kinda way. 

It took some coaxing on his end but eventually I spilled the whole gory story to Merle about my mother and my hatred for anyone who was stupid enough to affiliate themselves with her.  Eventually we came to understanding and after one night with an extremely grabby customer that Merle tossed on his ass, I might even say we’d become… friends? No. That was still to strong a word.  But we were civil to each other border lining on teasing.

As for Daryl and I, the whole bar seemed to fan itself while we were in each others company and though I loathed to admit it, he was slowly stealing my heart. 

Which was why I was a bit put out tonight when he didn’t show for Monday night football.  If there was ever a tell about the Dixon boys, it was football.  They never missed a game.  So where the Hell were they? 

Sighing, I smacked my head repeatedly on the bar-top then groaned from the pain of my own mistreatment.  “Goddamnit!”  I growled, smacking my head once more for good measure.  “What the hell is wrong with me?”  I was actually entertaining the idea of Merle coming in just so I could see Daryl?  Jesus, I was in trouble.

“Problem, Lil?”  Pat asked, the humor plain in his voice.  He was enjoying my torment. 

“I’ll spit in yer beer.”  I muttered and of course, he laughed.  Loudly.

“Come on, Lil.  Give the guy a chance.  Who knows, this one seems different from the rest of John’s boys.”  He chuckled, patting the top of my head like I was a poodle. 

“I very aware of that, thank you for the update.”  I muttered angrily, determined to put that fuckin’ Dixon out of my mind for good.  Now, if the rest of me would just comply we’d be golden. 

He patted my head once more before I heard the scrape of his bar-stool.  “Just think about it.”

I didn’t answer him. 

It was nearing ten when I’d determined it was about time to close up for the night and started my shift-change work.  Jerry was already in the back, counting out so I figured it was as good a time as any to start cleaning up behind the bar. 

Ten minutes and a lot of dirty ashtray’s later the front door swung open with a bang loud enough to startle me into dropping the glass I’d been drying to the floor.  It cluttered to the ground, shattering and nicking my leg in the process.  Damn denim shorts, anyway.  I jerked my head up, ready to raze this asshole to the pits of Hell for stepping foot into this bar after my lights were out, until I saw who it was.

My smart-ass comment died in my throat as I fought to swallow back the lump that had formed there.  He didn’t seem to want a conversation either as he strolled up the bar and slammed his thick fist onto the bar-top.  He was just as massive as I remembered and in his newly geeked-out frame of mind, he was twice as terrifying. 

Clayton, my mother’s young sometime drug-partner/sometime live in lover was a beastly fuck, both in mind and body.  He was good looking enough, one of my mother’s best.  But I knew him intimately and what a sick fuck he was, I almost dated the prick in high school, glad I made good on that judgment call.

“What do ya want, Clay? We’re closed.” 

He sneered at me, his lips curling over his yellowing and crooked teeth.  “I can fuckin’ see that.  I’m here t’ talk t’ ya ’bout the money ya owe.” 

Confused, I asked.  “What money?” 

His answer to that was him reaching over the bar to grab a handful of hair at my neck, jerking my face just inches from his.  “Yer momma ripped me off, sold me notin’ but cut, then took off!”  He spat, his disgusting breath slamming into my face as he struggled to breath through his nose. 

Getting angry now, I jerked my neck from his hands and spat right in his face.  “Fuck you, Clay.  You know I don’t fuckin’ concern myself with what she does.  It’s you’re fault you trusted her.  You should fuckin’ know better by now!” 

Before I could even scream Jerry’s name the back of his hand came down hard against the left side of my face.  I saw nothing but white as my ass hit the ground hard.  My ears were ringing and I could definitely tell some part of my face was bleeding. It was already matting in my dark hair and it was difficult to see out of my left eye.  He jumped across the bar and his hand came down two more times before he started yelling again. 

“You’d better give’a shit, girl!  I’m fixin’ t’ take th’ difference outta yer hide!” 

This time I did scream, cause somewhere in the back of my brain I knew he wouldn’t stop.  I could hear Jerry shouts as he came running from the stock-room freezer just as Clayton threw himself on me and landed a good solid knee to my ribs. 

Then he was gone but I could still hear screaming.  Only this time it was Clay’s. 

I shot up to a sitting position, my eyes darting around until they found Jerry’s.  He was in a state of bewilderment.  His green eyes were wide as I’ve ever seen them as he watched something from the office door, shot-gun in hand.  Next to him stood a grinning Merle Dixon. 

“What- what?”  I tried to ask but my voice faltered.

Merle strutted up to me, offering his hand to help me up as Jerry dug through the metal tub under the bar for left-over ice.  “What?”  I tried again.

Cackling, Merle just spun me around by my shoulders until I met a sight I don’t think I’d forget if I had amnesia.  Clay Weston, was getting his ass handed to him, literally.  He was fuckin’ screamin’ like a girl and I couldn’t help but laugh right along with Merle.  Clay was beggin’ Daryl to stop and that only made Daryl hit him harder.  Finally, thinking he had had enough or perhaps it was just his turn, Merle saddled up behind Daryl and lifted his still kickin’ n’ swinging body of a mashed up Clayton.

Daryl was red in the face and practically foamin’ at the mouth he was so pissed.  When Merle let him go, he charged right back like an angry fuckin’ bull.  Kickin’ him one last time in the ribs.  “Don’t ever let me catch ya layin’ hands on my woman again, yah here!” 

After all was deemed safe, Jerry offered to clean up the mess and sent me home with orders that Daryl was to drive me.  It’s not like could see out of my left eye anyways.  But when all was said and done, the last place I wanted to go was my empty apartment so, I had Daryl drive me to Daddy’s cabin. 

He seemed nervous about meeting my father outside of work, I guess I could understand that.  My dad was his foreman, after all.  But I got the feelin’ by the look on his face, his nervousness had nothing to do with work. 

Daddy was up, as I predicted.  I was a firm believer the man had insomnia.  He greeted us at the door, taking in my teary and bashed in face before he stuck a glare to Daryl that made me want to wilt into the wall. 

A quick explanation, a few beers and a joint later, Daryl and Daddy were two pea’s n’ a pod.  Fuck, they even made me sit through ‘Platoon’ again.  Not that I really minded, I had a decent buzz, Daryl was rubbing my tired feet and Daddy was grinning and giggling like a loon.  Real manly dad.  It was bad enough he came to the door in his fuzzy blue sleep pants I bought him as a gag-gift a few years ago. 

I guess it struck Daryl as funny, too because every once in a while I’d see him look at my old man out of the corner of his eye and chuckle.  It was pretty funny though.  My big-bad, patch-holdin’, biker father.  Complete with long hair, a fu-man-cu, earrings and tattoo’s dressed in fleece pants of the cartoon variety. 

It was after two A.M when Dad excused himself to bed and Daryl said his goodnights.  “Hey Daryl, I’ll walk you out.”

He nodded, leading the way back to his beater of a truck. 

Before I could lose my nerve or he could say anything stupid, I reached up and jerked his head down to mine.  Our lips met softly, but with vigor and oh… sweet Lord.  Those lips would be my downfall, I just knew it.  They were warm and surprisingly agile as they nipped and sucked on my bottom lip. 

Pulling away breathless, I muttered.  “Wednesday night, here, 6 o’ clock.” 

He looked so fuckin’ confused it was cute and I just had to kiss him once more before I told him my intentions.  “You’ve been askin’ me out for three months, Dixon. So be here to pick me up, Wednesday night at six.” 

His smile nearly had my lungs collapsing in my chest.  I had seen many looks from Daryl Dixon: amused, hurt, confused, his thinking face, and most recently I’ve seen him royally pissed off.  But I had never seen him smile.  It was kinda beautiful.  Not that I’d ever tell him that.  It would go against the guy-code of manly pride.

He pecked my swollen lips once more before whispering, “G’night.”  and slamming his tin-can shut.