A Redneck's Wicked Game (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Day One

Chapter 2-Day One

Rowan's POV

I slowly open my eyes, realizing my surroundings aren't familiar and I quickly sit upright. My eyes dart around the room trying to figure out where I am and see a familiar face. My voice comes out hushed, "Daryl." He nods and quietly asks, "How ya feeling girlie?" I move my leg and the pain shoots up my thigh, making me groan, "Like fucking shit." He smirks, "Yeah, I imagine. Gittin' shot will do that." I roll my eyes at him, "Well duh." He chuckles softly, "You are sassy as hell ain't ya?" I shrug, "It's a redhead thing I guess." He nods giving me a soft grunt. Nice to know I'm not the only one lacking social skills here.

I look around the room and don't see my things. After a few minutes of silence I decide I have no choice but to ask, "Where are my things?" Daryl looks over at me from his spot in the oversized arm chair and says, "Not in here." I give him a look full of attitude, "Well no shit Sherlock. I can see that." He tries to hold back the smile from my sassy ass answer but I can still see it as he answers, "Rick had me put your stuff in the other room." I nod and sigh, "Could I have my backpack?" He shakes his head, "Rick don't trust you. Until he looks through yer stuff he won't let you have it." I can't blame him for being cautious but I grumble, "Can you at least get me a pack of smokes and my zippo outta the bag?" He looks at me a moment before commenting, "You smoke?" I roll my eyes, "Yeah why?" He shrugs, "Ya don't look like the type." I snort, "Really? I've been smoking since I was twelve." He looks surprised, "I'm sure yer Mama loved that." I sigh, "Well you can add it to the list of everything else she didn't like about me." He nods, not saying a word. After a couple of minutes he gets up and opens the door asking for the backpack. A woman with short gray hair hands him the bag and he opens it. He rummages through the backpack and looks over at me, "Ya got three freaking cartons of cigarettes in here woman!" I nod, "Yeah well it ain't easy to find them these days. I stocked up."

He pulls out my open pack and I tell him, "You can take a pack if ya want." He nods and grabs a pack for himself before handing the bag back to the woman. He closes the door and walks to me, handing me my pack as he says, "Thanks for the smokes." I laugh, "Ya thank me for the cigarettes but not fer saving your ass?" He smirks at me, "Well I got my priorities." I shake my head and grin, not saying a word as he sits down on the chair. He looks over at me, "Ya can't smoke inside. I'll git ya some pants and take ya outside shortly." I nod as I lift the blanket, noticing for the first time that I'm missing my pants. I bite my bottom lip and try not blush as I realize he's obviously seen me in my underwear. I glance over at him and he's staring at me, running his hand through his scruff. He watches me for a few moments before he stands and goes to the door. As he opens it he says, "Stay put, I'll be right back." He walks through the door and shuts it behind him.

After a few minutes Daryl walks back in and tosses me some clothes. He says, "Carol thinks these will fit you. She says sorry 'bout not having a bra for ya." I nod as I catch the clothes, "Its fine, trying to find D cup bras before the world went to shit was hard enough, now it's impossible. I'll just deal with the one I have on." He shrugs as he sits down in the chair, not saying a word. I look at the clothes; the clean wife beater will definitely fit. I unfold a pair of denim cut-offs and immediately set them to the side. I look at the tag in the black yoga pants, relieved that they are my size. I mumble, "These will work fine, thanks." He looks at the discarded shorts and nods. I look up at him, knowing he's seen my scars and I mumble, "I'm not really into wearing shorts." He gives a long look before saying, "Its fine." I give him an appreciative look; he has no idea how much it means to not have to explain my legs. He stands up; turning around as he says, "Go ahead, git changed."

As soon as his back is to me I shuck off my dirty tank top, pulling the clean one on. I carefully swing my legs off the bed and start pulling on the pants. I try to stand up and I realize that I can't, "Shit. Daryl, I need some help." He looks back over his shoulder watching me struggle for a couple of seconds before turning around to come help me. He stands over me, reaching his hands out to me. I immediately flinch and he sighs, "Its fine Rowan I won't hurt ya." I mumble, "Sorry. It's not you; I just do that." I place my hands in his and Daryl pulls me up carefully as he mutters, "I git it don't worry." I look into his blue eyes and see a flash of understanding before I look away. He says, "Hold onto my shoulders and I'll pull up your pants." I nod and move my hands up his arms to his shoulders; trying to ignore the feeling of his skin underneath my hands. Daryl leans into me a little to reach the waistband of the pants and gently pulls them up; careful not to hurt my bandaged thigh. I can feel his warm breath on my bare shoulder and bite back an involuntary moan. Daryl looks me in the eye and I just shift my gaze to stare at the door. He gets the yoga pants up and puts his hands on my arms, "There ya go. You ready for that smoke?" I nod as he reaches for my pack of cigarettes that are on the side table. He shoves them in his shirt pocket as he says, "It's easier for me to carry ya, so don't freak out." I nod as he picks me up in his arms bridal style walking to the door. I wrap my arms around his neck so it's easier for him to turn the door knob. As we walk through the church I take in the people around me. Most of them appear to be in the main section of the church. I hear the baby babbling in a small room off the sanctuary. Daryl carries me out the double doors of the church.