For The Love Of Dixon (A Daryl Dixon Love Story) (WATTY AWARDS 2013)

Chapter 2

By the time I woke up I already knew I slept in. It took a few quick minutes to dress into a clean pair of jeans and a tshirt. Unzipping the tent I blinked my eyes to adjust to the sunlight. I took my previous attire with me to wash, but stopped when Carol called me.

"Emery, you can give that to me to wash if you'd like," she said. She folded what looked to be her pair of pants and set them aside. Carol just had that warm and welcoming motherly look about her that made her like-able.

"That's fine. I was on my way to wash them now," I said. She stepped in front of me. "It's no problem. I have another pile to get to anyway. You should get something to eat, you're probably still exhausted from your journey yesterday," she said. "I'm fine," I told her after she lightly took my clothes. Guilt came over me, but it felt like Carol was obligated to do so regardless. I saw a hint of how her husband treats her. She could be overworking herself to please him or just to hersellf busy and away from the man.

"Thank you, Carol. Really," I flashed a smile before slowly trailing away. I stopped when I saw Glenn's downcast expression as the others were stripping away his new car. "Awe, what happened? I didn't even get to drive it yet," I said while shoving my hands in my pockets. I knew the parts could be useful and the fuel was needed.

"I don't know about driving, but you could have called shotgun," Glenn said glumly. "Afraid I might scratch it up?" I asked while shaking my head and smiling a little. I started walking back to the RV with Dale. "I almost feel bad," he said while scratching his beard. "Sure ya do," I said while chuckling a little. Dale always had a watchful eye on me, like he did with Amy and Andrea. With the way he licked his lips and opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, it told me he was holding back.

"Talk to me," I simply said sitting down. "How's your ankle?" he finally confessed. "I'm not limping as much, and the pain subsided. It really wasn't that terrible to begin with." The subject was shaken off as I ran my fingers through my long curly hair. "Do you have a brush around here?" I asked Dale. He looked around the RV. "It keeps getting lost. If you look I'm sure you'll find one," he said.

Pursing my lips, I went to work in searching for one. The man seriously had almost everything. Tools, which were dropped on the roof and left behind, matches, spare keys, old magazines and newspapers. A comb, but no brush. A black hair tie peeked out from beneath an empty bottle and I decided to use that instead. It was only when my hair was up in a high ponytail that the screams of the younger kids reached my ears.

"Carl!" Lori screamed. I quickly stepped out to the see the others running off into the trees. My hands reached for the first thing near my feet. A wooden bat. I took off running towards the others. The children were still screaming and the only thing I could picture was the one thing everyone at the camp feared.

When I reached the line set up with empty cans attached to act as an alarm, I stepped around it and automatically reached for Sophia. "It's okay," I said hurriedly even though I didn't know the weight of the problem. The little girl's face was scrunched up in terror until Carol was beside me. Leaving her in her mom's hands, I slowly followed the others forward.

In the small clearing, the guys gathered around what I already knew was a walker. The dead always acted like they were starving which half of them probably were when they wipe out the population. I stepped back turning away from the scene of the walker getting beat on all sides. Mugged would be the term, if this disease hadn't turned everyone into cannibals.

I didn't pick up the small talk about the walker. It was abnormal enough that it found its way here where the kids saw it. If we weren't careful we'd have to leave and find another place to live. It was something that I wasn't looking forward too.

My green eyes landed on the target, a good sized deer. It's throat was torn open, the blood was an eyesore. You would think I've gotten used to it by now. There were also three good arrows sticking out of the deer's side. Of course it would belong to him.

A moment later, Daryl stepped into the clearing. He halted, caught off guard by all of us standing there, but the hard look returned in a heartbeat. He wore a lighter green shirt with no sleeves, his hair, the color of wet sand stuck up in some areas and was matted on the side of his face from sweating.

Everyone looked at each other with reflected looks of irritation, denial, and unbelievable. All the judgments directed to Dixon, like they'd rather have to deal with another walker than him right now. As if he really cared.

"All gnawed on by this filthy, disease bearing, motherless, poxy bastard." Daryl let off a little steam by kicking the decapitated body. I rolled my eyes with a shake of my head. That was the language of Daryl Dixon. Shoot first, possibly ask questions later, and lash out whenever something happens that he didn't like.

"It's a damn shame. I got us some squirrel though, it'll have to do," he added while looking around at everyone. I hated the way his eyes lingered on me, a smirk briefly sculpting his lips. I turned away and began walking back to camp. It looked like I wouldn't need the bat at least. It seems though that I couldn't take enough precautions. I was startled when the object was snatched from my hand.

"What do you think you're doing with this?" Daryl questioned, eyeing the thing before settling his gaze on me. There were bags under his eyes, but then again he always had those, even when we were teenagers. I shrugged, disliking the scrutiny of his level gaze that ceased to leave my face. "I didn't know what I was up against." A bat wasn't ideally what I preferred as a weapon, but when the time comes, you use whatever is around. Besides, it can do some damage if good force was used behind it.

"Let me see," he said while grabbing my hand and glancing at it, "as if ya would have used this. Ya could have broken a nail." His voice was sarcastic, a quality he always had. I snatched my hand away with a frown, not allowing myself to think about how surprisingly warm his touch was. "Such little faith in me," I mumbled under my breath.

"Come on, love. It's only me," he whispered in my ear before walking away. A blush crept over my face in embarrassment. I hadn't realized he heard me. The short nickname made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Love. A confession. Something I told him, I'd like, and despise now at the same time, to be called, when we were only 19. It's sweet, but cheesy and overused. I can't believe he even remembered.

"Merle!" Daryl called for his brother, snapping me out of my thoughts. Another problem fell in our laps. Daryl was back, but his brother wasn't.

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A/N: So for the first part I will be using the things from season one, but I will also be adding my own stuff too. After the CDC I will be writing my own stuff, no farm, no prison. please tell me what you think!