Perfect Storm || Daryl Dixon

37: a high merle is even worse than normal

"Words are like bullets. Once they are out, you can't control the damage they do." - Unknown

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Daryl didn't really want to pull away from her, but as Erin's tears stopped, he realised he'd have to let go for the sake of not being awkward. He weirdly missed her warmth as he stepped back, the coolness of the shade the canopy above them provided waking him from the comforting daydream of her embrace, back to the nightmares of their reality. Images of the mangled remains inside that house of horrors spliced themselves directly into his vision, mixing and melding with the thoughts of a child being the victim of such a sickening situation.

Bile bubbled at the top of his throat, threatening to escape, but he gulped quickly, distracting his own attention by looking back down at Erin who was giving him a strange look, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Daryl blinked, returning the strength and hardness to his stance and stature, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Ain't a pussy..."

"I never said you were. Emotions don't automatically mean weakness..." She tilted her head at him, her eyes still slightly puffy from the near breakdown he'd just seen her go through.

"It don't matter... C'mon, we need to get movin' or Merle'll be headin' back before we even get there..." He turned silently, avoiding her judging gaze as he hitched his crossbow against his shoulder, priming it at the dense forest ahead of them. He could almost feel a tingling sensation on the back of his head which confused him for a second until he came to the realisation that she was still glaring at him. He refused to turn back to look at her, knowing something in his face would betray him, "I said, c'mon..."

"And I said are you sure you're okay? I didn't get an answer," she argued as he closed his eyes and opened them again after a sigh, "Don't huff at me. I know that affected you just as much as me and I'm waiting for you to admit it."

Daryl's jaw tightened as he turned back on his heel, meeting her fiery glower with an equally icy glare, "I'm fine."

He stressed the word as it edged through his gritted teeth, escaping into the air and hanging there for a moment, taunting him with how untrue it really was. She wanted him to open up, but if he started messing with that locked up vault of emotions inside him there would be no coming back.

"Right... Course you are..." Erin stared back at him, the angry shine in her eyes almost daring him to get mad, but he refused to let his rage come to the forefront of his mind. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he circled around for hopefully the last time, hoping she didn't see the eye roll he sent her way. "I saw that."

"Yeah, well, c'mon..." He began walking away again, hearing her heave a sigh of annoyance from behind him before the sound of her footsteps followed, "Thank you."

She quickened her pace to walk level with him, shooting a glare sideways, "You're unbelievable, Daryl... You're such a child, sometimes..."

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Daryl didn't respond to her accusation, although Erin got the feeling he wanted to, so they walked the rest of the way in silence, neither willing to start up a new conversation amongst the hostility between them. The quiet didn't help her mind as it began cycling through the numerous images of the mangled corpse her eyes had taken back at the house, the flash of her brain's camera disorientating her while the pictures turned her stomach.

She examined the blade in her left hand in the hopes that the glinting light could offset the flash and expose the photos, burning them out of her mind forever. Each one broke her heart just a little bit more and, though he liked to act like he was, she knew Daryl wasn't heartless - it had to be killing him inside, too.

She was a war photographer and the apocalypse was her never-ending war.

She blinked away the sleep which made the film strip behind her eyes appear grainy and blurred, her eyelids working as a mechanical shutter, capturing the world on a timer which counted down the seconds like her internal clock counted her life away.

As she looked around, the camera stopped rolling while the advancing sight of the highway became her new subject and the rest of their surroundings faded. It was hardly picturesque, but as she caught a glimpse of movement, she found herself smiling at the sight of Merle stood by one of the many empty shells of cars. That just proved how messed up she was feeling - she was happy to see Merle...

"Baby broth'a!" he called over with a tone of surprise, his words still noticeably slurred after his meth bender the previous night, "What are ya doin' 'ere? Though' ya was off fuckin' in th' woods or somethin' wi' Ellie..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Daryl's shoulders tense up before she muttered, "Punch him or I swear I will..."

Over on the other side of the truck, Carol was stood with her arms folded, looking even more terrified than usual - why Rick thought sending Merle with her was a good plan, she guessed she'd never know... The shorter-haired woman glanced over at Erin with a pleading look as if begging her to help escape the man in front of her and, since Daryl seemed to be leaving the talking to her, she spoke up.

"Rick sent us down to make sure you were okay. We took a different route to look around for Sophia on the way..." The last part was directed to reassure Carol who nodded, but the scared look was still prevalent in her eyes.

As always, when Merle spoke, it became a boxing match...

"Did'n ask you, did I?" Merle countered, his gaze focused directly on Daryl who still remained silent, "Ya deaf, Darlina? Was ya off fuckin' ya little missy?"

"Unlike you, Merle, I have at least some self respect-" She tried to argue with him, even taking a step forward in an attempt to make him back down, but he cut her off, his head snapping in her direction for a moment.

"Still did'n ask you, Pint-Size," he looked back to his brother, the amused glint in his eye proving that he was trying to provoke the younger Dixon, "Well, little brother? Was ya?"

"Yeah..." Erin's eyes grew wide as Daryl suddenly spoke, her gaze darting to his face to find him avoiding her eyes, focusing completely on Merle, "Somethin' like that..."

There was the first blow...

A tone of actual surprise filled Merle's voice, "Hey, maybe ya not such a pussy aft'a all..." He walked over, tempting her to punch him right there and then, but she was too shocked by Daryl's lie to move as he pulled the younger male into a hug of sorts, "I'm proud'a ya..."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Daryl shot her a desperate look which quickly closed it, causing her to wonder what the hell this was and why the hell she was in the middle of it. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Merle was the reason behind Daryl constantly trying to play the tough guy, constantly hiding his emotions for fear of looking weak, but this seemed like too much - pretending to have had sex with her was stepping too far over the line of her tolerance.

"Wha' ya glarin' at me fer, bitch?" Merle brought the attention back to himself as usual, pulling back from his brother who was beyond tense, "Jealous tha' I'm stealin' ya man? Ya don' 'ave feelin's fer this chick, do ya, little brother?"

Daryl's eyes flickered pleadingly to hers for barely a second before hardening and looking back at Merle, "Nah... Couldn't care less about her..."

There was the second...

"Aww..." Merle snickered drowsily, his head swaying from the drugs and his new sense of accomplishment as he turned to Erin, "Look a' 'er little face... Ya broke 'er 'art, Daryl..."

"I don't care..." Though she knew deep down that he was only saying it to look tough, those three words delivered the last three blows, hitting her at full force and sending her reeling into confusion.

Knock out...