A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"I've lived enough to know the battle's never through." - Weeds or Wildflowers. Parsonsfield.
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It wasn't long after Rick left that Erin could hear a commotion start up outside the house. The window was open so the sound easily travelled in, though the exact words that were being shouted were unclear as they all overlapped.
"Ah, hell. I knew it were too quiet," Daryl sucked in a breath beside her. His shoulders shifted under his leather vest as he leaned back in an attempt to see what was going on through the window.
"What's happening?" Erin asked, pushing herself up with both hands to a sitting position. She was getting tired of being flat on her back already, even if she'd only been conscious around twenty minutes, "Is it Shane...?"
She tried not to let her nerves seep into her voice, but Daryl's sharp senses still noticed. He looked back over at her, reaching a hand out quickly to support her as she moved, "Stay still for a damn minute. Ya should be lyin' down."
Erin raised her eyebrows at him, hoping he'd realise the hypocrisy of his words. When he didn't and simply stared back at her with his own eyebrows raised, she batted his hands away, "Help me sit or leave me to do it myself."
He stared blankly at her from a moment, his lips a perfectly straight line of annoyance, before he sighed and seemed to give in. His large hands gently enveloped her upper arms as he lifted her up, the blanket that had been tucked under her armpits falling down onto her lap.
She felt him falter, his movements suddenly stopping with his hands still on her arms. Then she realised, as she looked down, where his gaze had settled. She was wearing only her sports bra, the rest of her upper body exposed to the elements and the eyes of awkward gruff rednecks who happened to be in the immediate vicinity.
"Daryl... Daryl, you can let go of my arms now," she said, reaching her hand up and shaking his elbow as his hands stayed in place. The movement seemed to snap him out of it, his eyes quickly flicking to meet hers before he removed his hands abruptly, "Thank you."
"I... wasn't lookin' at-" he started but faltered, suddenly finding an intense interest in the wooden beams of the ceiling, "I was lookin' at the bandages... Lot more of them than I was expectin' is all..."
Erin looked down at herself, struggling to see over the thick bandages that covered her nose. She felt with her hands instead, her fingertips brushing across the clammy bare skin of her stomach before feeling the rough edge of gauze and bandages. She winced as she pressed a little too hard in places, the pressure sending shocks of pain through her ribcage and spine.
