Perfect Storm || Daryl Dixon

21: kicking dixon ass

"She was beautiful but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire is beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close." - Neil Gaiman

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Shane finally backed off after a threat from Daryl to plant a bolt in his brain, retreating back to whichever vehicle he'd decided to rest in - surprisingly not the one Lori occupied...

When he was finally out of sight, Erin lowered her pistol and tucked it back into her jacket, noticing both Merle and Daryl were watching her. She glanced between them for a moment before walking around the pair, heading towards her truck, "I'm gonna go pack up my stuff..."

They both stood frozen in place for a few seconds, processing what she'd just said before Daryl stalked after her, gesturing for Merle to go back and keep watch like they were supposed to be. She heard his footsteps approaching from behind and turned as she reached the back of the truck, "Yes?"

"What ya doin'?" She rolled her eyes at the question, the action shielded by her fringe falling in her eyes as she pushed all of her weapons further into the truck bed to prevent them being thrown about in transit. None had gone missing which was a great surprise, but she figured they were all too scared to even try.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she sighed, looking up and raising an eyebrow at him as she dropped the pistol on top of the other guns with a clatter, "I'm leaving. I don't want to be shot, weirdly enough..."

Daryl began to say something in response but seemingly decided against it, resting his weight on his right leg and tilting his head at her before speaking up again, "Rick wouldn't let 'em... Neither would Merle, I reckon..."

"Since when does Merle give a shit about what happens to me? All we've ever done is punch each other," she muttered in reply, fiddling with the strap on one of the rifles.

"I don't kno- Wait, you've punched him? When?" Erin looked over to find Daryl looking quite shocked, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Before we left Atlanta. He was pissing me off so I knocked him out..."

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As he watched the woman stood in front of him, Daryl began to realise why his brother was so cautious and respectful of her. Not many people could punch him and live to tell the tale without any fear of him killing them, meaning there was definitely something about her that was special.

He himself had never seen someone so in tune with nature other than him and Merle, yet Erin seemed to have taught herself, something he would have thought impossible if she hadn't been so adamant about it. His uncle, Jess, had been the one to teach them, but even before that Daryl had possessed a knack for tracking, making him marginally better than Merle in that respect. She was somehow equalling him which caused him to doubt she'd told him the whole truth.

She'd even seemed at ease with Shane pointing a gun at her head; whether that was just a cover, he didn't know, but he had a strong feeling that the asshole would deserve whatever he got if he got on the wrong side of her.

"Ya knock'd Merle out...? How?" he questioned, taken aback by the mere idea of someone out-Merle-ing Merle. Punching people was his speciality, even with only one hand.

"Easy. I could demonstrate on you if you'd like," she stepped towards him, straight-faced and fist raised, "Hold still."

Daryl ducked just before she swung, catching her torso with his forearm and off-balancing her, sending her stumbling for just a second, long enough for him to kick out and hook his foot around her ankle. With a sharp pull towards him, she fell to the floor with a thud and he chuckled quietly, "Wouldn't try that shit with me. Ya combat skills need wor-"

Before he could finish his sentence, his legs were pulled from under him and he landed on his ass. Hissing at the impact with the ground, he whipped his arms around to grab her. His fingertips missed by a fraction of a centimetre as she dove for his torso and successfully shoved him backwards, careful to avoid crushing his bow between the ground and his back as his shoulders collided with the asphalt.

As his hands flailed to push her off, she pinned them above his head, her stone cold expression cracking into a grin as she looked down at his disgruntled frown, "You ain't falling for them, huh? I think your combat skills need work..."

Laughing lightly, she rolled to the side and released his wrists from her grip, dusting off her jeans. He scrambled to his feet, looking around to check no one had seen him get his ass beat, "Yeah, well, I let ya win... Makin' it fair for ya..."

Erin tilted her head at him, an eyebrow raised, before turning back to her truck, calling over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Dixon... Remember my name - Erin Reyes, the girl who kicked both the Dixon's asses!"

"Ya didn't kick my ass," Daryl argued, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, totally. That was just you rehearsing for ballet."

He grunted at her sarcasm, not sure which one would be less embarrassing. As she climbed into the cab, he walked to the open window on the other side, "Merle finds out nothin' of this, alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Don't want you trailing me as well as the others, or the bullet in my brain that I've been kindly offered would be replaced by a bolt, and I wouldn't want you wasting arrows..." Sarcasm still dripped from her voice as she threw her backpack into the passenger seat and looked up at his face at the window, "You're gonna have to move or I'll hit you with my truck."

"Ya not goin' anywhere, I thought we'd decided that?" Daryl remained at the window, holding onto the door with his hand as if that would stop her driving away.

"No, you decided that. I never said a word, and I'm going whether you like it or not," she shook her head, turning the keys in the ignition as he heard the low rumble of the engine starting up.

"Stay one more day. 'Til we find Sophia. Less chance they'll come after ya..." He saw her spirit flicker as he threw the best point he could think of at her, "After that, I won't say anythin' to stop ya..."

Erin turned to look at him, annoyance clear in her eyes, "And if I leave now?"

"Bolt. Brain. Simple 'nough..."

"You wouldn't. They'd ask questions," she pointed out, but he shook his head, a smile hinting at his lips.

"Dunno, easy enough to say ya came at me with a knife," he leaned forward against the door, his forearms resting on the window frame, "Ya wanna risk it? I ain't kiddin'..."

She searched in his eyes for any sign of bluffing, but was met with only his steely gaze, sincerity laced within it like some sort of tapestry of emotion. Sighing defeated, she switched off the engine, "One day. Then I'm out of here, no stopping me."

"No stopping ya," Daryl agreed, unsure why he'd felt so adamant to stop her, but somewhat relieved that he had. This woman intrigued him - he wasn't going to let her just slip away before he could find out more about her.

His gaze followed her as she climbed back out of the cab - leaving, he noticed, her rucksack in the passenger seat - before rounding the truck and coming face to face with him, "This better be worth it. If they send me out to the strays, you're the first one I eat when I come back..." She nodded at him pointedly.

Daryl rolled his eyes at her behind his haphazard fringe, "Bolt. Brain. Simple 'nough."