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

Summary:  Some only see the pain behind a scar.  For some they are worn in honor; proud badges of victory and bravery.  For Lillian James Harper, they are a mark of survival.  Every scar has a story, this one is hers.

Warning:  This fan-fiction is rated Mature for Language, Gore and Adult Situations.  Readers under the age of 18 are strongly discouraged from reading.

Pairing: Daryl x Lillian James Harper

Chapter Two

 

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

With a groan, I turn my head from the light seeping through my eyelids.  Apparently somebody had decided that being butchered like a cow at auction wasn’t enough and I somehow deserved this new and unusual torture.  The nausea was fierce but the blinding headache I seemed to have acquired somewhere was far worse.  My vision was still blurry but that did little to stop the small space around me from spinning.

“Hey there, you’re alright.”  A soft voice coos. 

My head started swimming again and before I knew it, I passed back out. 

.

.

.

“Christ!”

He grunts and peeks up at me from the apex of my thighs.  His bright blue eyes are shining with mischief as he releases my clit from his lips with a loud pop. 

“Daryl’ll do just fine,” he smirks, lowering his head as his tongue dives back in between my parted folds. 

He’s being a bastard and he knows it, but that’s what I love so much about him.  He tongue circles again and I can’t help but cry out his name as rush of warmth floods my body.  He is very good at what he does.

If it wasn’t for the delicate situation we were in at the moment, I might have been tempted to at least threaten him with one of my new frying pans that were scattered out on the counter around me, but I damn myself to Hell for stoppin’ him now. 

“Ya like that don’tcha?”  It a rhetorical question, he knows it and so do I, but it was hard not to answer him when he gently bit into my slick folds of my pussy. 

It was painful and blissful at the same time…

“Naw,” he said, answering for himself.  “I know ya like it like that.”

Yeah, my man was a talker…an boy howdy could that man do some talkin’…

“Fuck, Daryl!”  I screamed as roughly inserted two fingers.

He ran his tongue in a soothing motion, down to his fingers and back again, making me squirm in anticipation.  We had been at this for a while now, and every time I’d get right to that ledge of euphoria…he’d stop and change tactics.  

His intense eyes cut up to mine and he smirks, tugging at my clit with his teeth.  “We’ll get there,” he murmurs before burying his face again. 

I couldn’t really explain why he decided that deflowering the kitchen countertop was such a priority but he was adamant to have me there as soon as we walked through the door this morning.  Either way, 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 my hips pinned.

“DARYL!”

.

.

.

“So it’s true then, you really do know that Hillbilly.” A gruff voice startled me from my slumber.  It’s not all that unpleasant of a voice, but without even seeing this man I could tell he was he was sneering at me. 

It took me all of five seconds to realize that the deep voice looming over me was real, which in turn made the reality that I was not back at home with Daryl hurt even more.  It had been just a dream…

With that realization my eyelids flew open but my vision was still fuzzy and I had a harder time focusing than I normally did.  My scan of my surroundings was the same; too slow. 

My assessment—was that I had survived again.  I was in some type of late model R.V., and was lying in a bed with bare legs.  I was in this old Winnebago with an unfamiliar man who was large and watching me, and I couldn’t see out of my left eye.  The long short of it was that I was fucked and beginning to panic.

“I know you heard me, I can tell you’re awake.”  If this had happened a few months ago, I probably would have spit out some smartass remark, but the new me was a tad bit more volatile than that when frightened. 

My eyes snapped up to his and I couldn’t contain the shriek of fear that bubbled out of my throat at his close proximity.  His face was as hard as stone and close enough to my own that I could tell that his eyes were a dark shade of chestnut and not black like they would appear from a distance. 

My fist struck out almost instantly, landing a hard hit to his nose.  As the cartilage crunched under the weight of my blow, he cried out in rage or pain but either way, the fucker stumbled backwards, both of his palms cradling his face.  It was all the break I needed.

Without thought my flight instincts kicked in and I lurched from the bed in my best attempt to clear it and the brawny man who blocked my path to the open door at the other side of the camper.  I made a mad dash for the blinding light, my best chance at freedom.  Unfortunately, the man had other intentions and tried to make a grab for my ankle.  Thankfully for me, his eyes were still watering and the swipe he made for my legs missed.  Still scared shitless, I screamed again as I tried to swallow back the tears and bile fighting to get loose within me.  This was my worst nightmare coming true all over again.

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

As the sounds of other men assaulted my ears, I realized it was little too late and that escape would be of little use.  My chest was thudding like crazy in my chest, making it hard to breathe.  I was bare from the waist down, I had no food, weapons or shelter and leaving here would mean no survival.  So with bodies closing in all around me, I shrank back into the metal siding of the R.V., my eye still scanning for anything that I could brandish as a weapon.

“No one is going to hurt you,” a voice soothed, it was decidedly male but it was older and softer than the bulking man she had encountered inside.  “I promise you, no one here will hurt you.”  Yeah, yeah, Buddy…tell that to the scars on my face.

Taking a risk, I let my gaze linger up and away from the door of the R.V., trying to find the origin of the man who spoke to me.  It took all of three seconds to realize what a mistake that was.  There were so many people milling about and all gawking at me like I was the Snoopy blimp in the Macy’s Day Parade, but what terrified me was the number of men.  Sure, they had women and children too, but so did those jerk-offs that cut me up. 

Everyone was staring at me with an intense curiosity that I didn’t understand; like they all wanted to chat me up but were too scared to approach me.  They stared at me like I was no more than a wild animal, backed into a corner and rabid.  Hell, that was probably the smartest thing they could have done; I wasn’t exactly known for my stellar sanity these days.

Let them think it, I told myself as I started to crouch, make them scared of you.  “Stay the fuck away from me!”  I snarled, which turned out better than I expected seeing as how parched my throat was.  God, it was on fire; raw and scratchy like I had just swallowed a porky pine.

“Stay— 

Whatever I had planned to say died in my throat instantly the moment I heard the heavy footfalls coming from inside the motor-home.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was big n’ terrifyin’ coming back for round two, and this time I didn’t have the element of surprise. 

He lumbered down the metal stairs with a growl, spitting blood from his mouth and wiping at his watering eyes.  With just a single glance I knew I had been correct when I had thought him gigantic, and I knew that there was no way—on God’s Green Earth, The Pits of Hell, or some Alien Planet—that I could win in a fight against this man.  Damn it, the man was taller than Daryl and forty pounds or more on him, but none of the really bothered me as much as the look in his eyes did. 

So with the psychotic bastard blocking my last angle of escape, my flight or fight plans turned into sit and wait.  I would wait, take whatever these sick fucks had to offer and then I slit their throats in their sleep.  Someone was bound to get sloppy, they always do.

Shrinking in on myself, I waited for the other shoe to drop as the large, bleeding man I had encountered when I first woke up made his way to me.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should fight back, do something, but all thought of fighting or running halted when I heard thundering footsteps sprinting towards me.  Even though it was coming from distance and I couldn’t see over the gauze covering most of my eye, I could tell this was a heavy person, even bigger than the man standing next to me.  Panic immediately set in and the only thing I could do was stand there, looking for an opening so I could run…until I heard that rough sarcastic voice.

“Stupid sum’bitch, I warned ya ta stay outta there.”  It growled as came closer into camp, huffing like a fat man had just run a 100 meter dash.  Without looking I would have known that voice, I’d heard used in many different ways for the past nine years.  It was a mix of too much smoking and a deviated septum usually caused by drug abuse. 

“Merle?”  I cried as my head spun around—eyes darting in every direction—praying that I hadn’t finally lost my mind, because I couldn’t very well believe my eyes.  Seeing that big bastard standing there like a tree might have very well been a hallucination; the Lord knows it happened to me before back when I was…

He smirked at me from his perch by a beat-up folding table, his massive arms curled over his chest.  “Ya got it, Sugar-tits.” 

As soon as he called me “sugar-tits” I knew this was no hallucination, he was really here; a Dixon was standing before my very sight.  With fresh tears pouring down my face, I charged forward into a crooked run, not even bothering to catch myself when my barefoot skimmed over a sharp rock. 

Enormous arms broke my fall as Merle scooped me up into the one thing I never thought I feel again…a hug.  It hurt more than I would like to admit and he smelled worse than a dead animal but I couldn’t find it in me to really care.  In Merle’s arms I was with family…I was finally safe.

As I sobbed and wailed like a dying cat into Merle’s chest, he laughed at me. 

“Ya’know, little brotha’s gonna tan that ass when he sees ya up and already pickin’ fights with the friendly neighborhood pig?”  God, is it terrible that I actually missed Merle Dixon?

“Daryl’s alive?”  I gasped, pulling back to look him in the eyes as I prayed that he was tellin’ me the truth. 

He nodded, his eyes shifting back toward the “cop” I had apparently assaulted as said “cop” growled and spit at the ground.  “Figures she’d know them fuckin’ Hilljacks.  Bitch damn near broke my nose!”

Merle growled low in his throat as he set me on my feet and back me behind him.  “My brotha told ya to stay the fuck outta that camper, but yer to stupid ta listen.  So I’m tellin’ ya now.  Best stay away from her or I’ll put my boot up yer ass.”

The rest of the group gathered around us looked stunned, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I actually knew the Dixon brothers, or if it was because I was on friendly terms with the Dixon brothers.  Either way, it was a highly amusing thing to witness.

“Thanks for that, Merle.”  I told him, patting his massive arm.

Merle looked down at me, his eyes sweeping across my body as his face shifting from his harsh stare to one of amusement; which terrified me because I just knew he was about to say something embarrassing. 

In a mock whisper he informed me, “Ya’know, Darylina’s gonna fuck yer brains out the first chance he gets…he’s been missin’ that sweet ass.”

My face grew red as I stared at him completely stunned.  Not so much because he said something so lewd—this is Merle Dixon—but because for the first time in what has felt like forever…I found something funny and I laughed; a true genuine laugh and God did it feel good. 

The others that were still gawking at us looked speechless.  Yeah, join the club; if someone had told me a couple months ago that I’d be bawlin’ and hangin’ off Merle Dixon’s arm like a tree ornament I’d have laughed in your face.  But here were—Me and Merle—at the end of the world and makin’ nice without Daryl being around to make fun of us.

“Lil!”  The voice is muffled and a good distance away, but my heart stutters in my chest.

Merle laughs, “Speak of the Devil.”

Suddenly, my chest draws tight and I’m not sure if I can face him so I duck my head.  What would he think of my new face?  Would he still think I’m beautiful?  It was stupid but after so many years of being told I was beautiful…I was suddenly scared shitless that he wouldn’t think so.

“He already got a good look at’em last night.  He didn’ take it so good but he ain’t gonna care and ya know it.  Ain’t no use hidin’ like a pussy now.”  Merle scoffs as he lifts my chin. 

“Lillian!”  His voice sounds frantic and I hope he doesn’t have a stroke before he makes it out of the woods.

“How’s he know I’m up?”  I ask, pulling my face out of Merle’s meaty palm as I start turning in every direction.  I was nearly bursting at the seams to see his face.

“Walki’s,” Merle says with a chuckle as he scoops me up, spinning me in the right direction before setting me back on my feet just as my hunter comes barrelin’ out of the trees, red faced and sweating. 

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees me and looks at me like he can’t believe his eyes; like he couldn’t be sure it was really me.  Grudgingly, I couldn’t blame him for it; these days I looked more like Frankenstein’s bride than his.  Using Daryl’s rare moment of shock, I take the time to commit the image of his weary face to memory; after all who knows when we might be separated again.  He was definitely thinner than I remembered, but I guess we all were these days.  He was dirtier too.  He needed a hair-cut, a bath and a shave…but he was still my Hillbilly Devil; all sandy blond hair and blue eyes. 

Feeling a little bit more like myself with Merle snickering at my back and Daryl stunned like a deer in the headlights in front of me, I did what I’ve always done with the tension gets to thick, I turned to sarcasm.

“Cat got yer tongue, Dixon?  C’mon now, what’d Merle say?”

Of course, Merle hoots like the idiot he is and mutters “mouthy bitch” under his breath but for the most part I ignored him; I was much too busy staring at my beautiful hunter. 

Daryl’s face lightens almost immediately at my smart-ass remark, his eyes twisting into something I could only describe as a mixture of amusement and longing…; which means he found my inappropriate comment funny but still found nothing funny about the situation. 

Finally, he starts to advance on me and I sent up a silent thank you, because at the moment I felt like I was wearing concrete shoes and sleepin’ with the fishes at the bottom of the ocean.

His smile turns up a little, his perfect little mole curling his thin lips just a little more than usual.  It clear to me that he is beyond happy to see me but his eyes are on fire; he was pissed. 

“He’d say nice fuckin’ rack, can I play with’em?”

A tear slips down my face as Merle falls to pieces behind me, laughing and cackling like he’s about to die.  But I didn’t care, a million geeks could be raining down around our ears and I wouldn’t care.  Daryl was so close I could practically smell the forest on him. 

I smiled up at him, a little shyly; for the life of me I couldn’t tell you why.  Daryl and I had never been a shy couple, ever.  We weren’t that huge on PDA—unless one of us was jealous—but this, this was…

“Yeah, I guess he would—

Before I could finish speaking, Daryl pulled me roughly into his arms and spun us around.  I knew why of course, the tears that soaked my shirt were reason enough; Daryl didn’t do public displays of emotion, period. 

“God,” he whimpers.  “Oh God, Lil’…”  His voice is crackling and breaking under the strain of his emotions as he continues to rub my back and shake in my arms. 

His head lifts slight, wet blue eyes taking in my face, making me uncomfortable under his scrutiny.  You know he doesn’t care.  He’s not disgusted.  He won’t care.  His face is curious but for the most part, unreadable.  He wants to ask what happened and I’m not sure I was ready for that just yet.  I just got used to the offending scars myself and if I knew Daryl even half as well as I thought I did, I knew he was going to go nuclear the moment he got a good look at them. 

“I missed you, baby.”  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. 

Gravel crunches underfoot, immediately putting me on edge and I jerk away instinctively.  I needed to know what was going on around me, but I still felt silly and foolish when I realized it was just the rest of Daryl’s group leaving to give us privacy. 

“Daryl,” a soft voice calls to us, “um…she’ll need to have those bandages changed again before she goes to bed.”

The voice belonged to the same old man that had tried to speak to me when I first tried to make my escape.  He was sweet looking in his faded Hawaiian shirt and bucket hat, but he looked nervous, wary to be speaking to Daryl at all. 

Daryl only nodded into the crook of my neck, never bothering to turn and acknowledge the man himself, but really, the old man should be happy he got that much out of him when he was this upset.  Usually—unless you were me—you’d have had somethin’ hurled at your head, most likely Daryl’s fist. 

Without word, Daryl pulled back and scooped me up, cradling me like a small child against his chest and started stalking his way down a dirt path toward a little town of tents, an amused Merle hot on our heels.