Sometimes she still felt the feeling of his hands on her body. Her skin itched and crawled, but even when she scrubbed it all raw, even she was to the point of nearly bleeding, it still itched and crawled and burned. Nevermind her own mind had become her own worst enemy.

She tilted her head back and took a swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels. It burned, but it was good. It made her forget, even if it was just for a little while.

She leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. The stars shown brightly, undisturbed by any city lights. No gun shots, no moans. It was so peaceful, even if it would only last for a little while.

"Where da hell did ye get that?" A voice asked. Presley swiveled her head around to look at him. Daryl- she should have known. She bared a drunken smile, raising the bottle over her head and taking another drink.

"I've had it." She answered simply, flopping down onto her back. She kicked her legs out into the air like a child, a mane of black hair sprawled out underneath her head like a pillow. Daryl couldn't deny, that even in a drunken state, she looked just as stunning. "Join me, my friend... Have a drink."

"Yer hammered." Daryl muttered, shaking his head. Still, he sat down. He couldn't just leave her out here on his own... Or so he told himself. "What is it?" He asked, squinting to read the bottle. "Jack Daniels? Hardly a lady drink. Shoulda got yerself a margarita or somethin'." He frowned. "Damn kid, you drank half the bottle!"

She threw her head back and laughed. It was definitely a drunk laugh, but still radiant and clear... Not broken, like it was before. "Daddy always said... If ye gonna drink, ye gonna drink right, kid." She smiled and shook her head. "He gave me my first drink when I turned thirteen. I thought it was disgusting... I ended up getting six months later at a party." She rolled her eyes at his last comment. "What, just because I'm female I can't hold my own liquor? Boo on you, I could probably outdrink you."

Daryl listened to her, rolling his eyes at the last part.

He didn't say anything... There was nothing for him to say. She was drunk enough that she probably wouldn't even remember any of it, anyways. So he just listened. He took a drink, wincing at the burn. This girl is tough shit, he thought as she took another swig. She hardly even blinked, and he knew for sure that it burned.

"My daddy... At the time, he wouldn't have won father of the year." She shook her head, rolling the bottle of golden liquor in her hand. "But now... His baby girl has survived, because of what he did for me." She looked up at the stars, the light illuminating her face beautifully.

"My pa is the reason I'm alive too." He admitted, looking away. She offered him the bottle, sensing that it was a sensitive topic. He took another swig, shaking his head. "But I don't think we learned survival the same way."

"I know he's still alive... Up in Washington." She said suddenly. Her words were becoming more and more slurred and it was becoming hard to understand her. Still, her voice was calming.

"Don't ye wanna go find 'im?" Daryl asked.

"I know he's lookin' for me... If I went up there, I would be disappointed to find that he had left a long time ago." She shook her head, setting the bottle beside her. Daryl feared that if she took another drink she would pass out from too much alcohol. "He pry thinks I'm still up in Colorado."

Daryl stared forward, taking the bottle from the ground and taking a drink. He had never been a big drinker, but it felt so good to have it after going so long without it.

"The Governor raped me." She blurted out. Daryl spit the drink out of his mouth, thankfully into the grass instead of the bottle. Anger swelled up in him, so much that he couldn't control the rage. He fisted the green grass between his hands, bringing up weeds and all. "Every day, the same time. Sometimes more than once a day."

"Why?" Daryl asked, though the question wasn't really for her, it was for the Governor himself. Since that man wasn't here to answer for himself, Presley took it upon herself to answer.

"Because he's a hormonal bastard... And I was too weak to fend him off." She struggled to stand up, but her head continued to hang low. "I couldn't sleep tonight. I... I feel his hands on me... Touching me, grabbing me." She shook her head. "It hurt. It still hurts. When will it stop?"

When Daryl didn't answer she sighed. "I probably shouldn't have said that. I have no filter when I'm drunk." She glanced over at him. She swore she saw a sad expression on his face, but the light was too dull and she was too drunk to even process it.

"I'm sorry." He said finally. "But I'm glad ye told me."

She looked confused. "Why?"

"Because it means ye trust me... Even if it's just a lil bit." He forced a smile, despite his rage. He had a strong urge to grab her hand, but settled by touching her shoulder instead. She smiled faintly, which almost made everything much better.

Almost.

"I'm tired." She whined, reaching for the bottle in Daryl's hands. She frowned when he pulled it out of her reach.

"Haven't ye had enough?"

"I've had enough when I've forgotten everything." She mumbled, her words slurred as she reached for the bottle again. Daryl placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from toppling on top of him, but it happened anyways. She lost her balance and fell into him. which pushed him so he fell onto his back. The two froze and held their breath, their faces inches apart.

Oh how he longed to kiss her. He could smell her breath, which smelled strongly of alcohol and mint. She almost always had a tin of altoids in her pocket. He had watched her pull one out and pop one into her mouth multiple times during the day.

Through the confusion, Presley wrenched the bottle from his grip and crawled away, taking another swig of it before anything could happen. Daryl sighed and stood, brushing off his jeans before approaching her. "That's too much alcohol, even for me, missy. Your hang over is gonna be hell." He said, taking the bottle from her again. Her bottom lip puckered into a pout, and she crossed her arm over her chest when he disposed of the empty bottle by chucking it over the fence.

"It was gone anyways!" He claimed. He couldn't help but to laugh when she continued to look at him with a pouting scowl on her face. He offered a hand to her, which surprised him when she took it. He pulled her to her feet, more carefully this time. Still, in her drunken state, she stumbled and fell against him, giggling.

"Did you just giggle?" He asked, supporting her weight with ease as she struggled to find her balance.

"No." She mumbled defensivly. "Presley doesn't giggle." She claimed, managing to find her feet, only to stumble again. She began tilting towards the ground when he wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked his arm beneath the bend of her legs, scooping up the light girl. She threw her head back and laughed, swinging her feet as he trekked to the prison.

"I can walk." She whined, but made no struggles to get down.

"No ye can't." He muttered.

"I am an independent woman." She exclaimed, pressing her hand against his chest. She slumped into him, laying her head against his chest and mumbling soft words as he carried her through the cell block.

"I want peanut butter." She mumbled. He rolled his eyes, but made a mental note to snag some of it if he saw it on a run. He went into her cell and placed her on the bed, frowning when she tried to sit up.

"Presley, no." He said, pushing her back down and bringing the blanket up to her chin. She frowned again, but surprised him by obeying.

"You have to take my shoes off." She whined. The man sighed, unlacing her boots and setting them off to the side. She looked up at him with those radiant blue eyes, and that was when he realized that he was developing a soft spot for her. He would jump in front of about any train for her, and do whatever he had to to keep her safe.The thought scared him, especially knowing that she could pick up and leave at just about any time.

He was just about to exit the room, so deep in thought, that he almost didn't hear her murmur, "Stay, please."

He turned and looked at her. Her blue eyes were already beginning to close. He sighed, wanting to pretend that he hadn't heard it... But he couldn't quite bring himself to leave her here all alone.

"Ye better not snore." He muttered as he crawled into bed with her. Her breathing leveled out, and suddenly she was curled up against him, an arm over his waist and leg entangled with his own.

He wouldn't have changed one thing about that night.

- - -

I just... The feels... This chapter, yo... I loved writing it. It was so much fun, ya'll have no idea. BUTTERFLIES FOR DARYL

Were you guys surprised that Presley is a Jack Daniels kinda girl, or nah?

Comment, vote, xo