A/N: A world of thank yous to my amazing beta Calcifer179 (check out his stuff!) for helping me brainstorm this fanfic idea and I have to say the character of Logan is really a joint creation, I am super happy with it all and his contributions have been awesome :) I'm mixing things up with the plot of the show A LOT and I need to stress that while the storyline and core characters will remain essentially the same in terms of their genre and attitudes, my OC is definitely a 'comic relief' type and it will probably change the overall tone of things. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter and I can't wait to update soon
Daryl heard the car pulling up the long, dirt driveway before he saw it, and sighed before laying down the wrench he had been using on his truck. He ran his fingers through his short hair and wondered again why he had agreed to this, these were going to be a long two weeks.
The white Honda Civic slowed to a stop out the front of the old weatherboard house and a leggy redhead stepped out the driver's seat, opening the door with a carefully manicured hand. She was wearing low heels, tight jeans and a black and white striped top that revealed a fair amount of cleavage. She peered over her fashionable sunglasses and looked Daryl up and down,
"Daryl Dixon," she purred and moved to close the distance between him.
"Becky Lehane," Daryl said with a small nod of acknowledgment, crossing his arms.
"Uh uh," Becky waggled her finger at him, "It's Becky Vasquez now."
"Of course, you're married."
"I'll take that as a 'congratulations'," she smirked, shifting the strap of her patent red handbag that hung from her shoulder.
"Well sure, I'm happy for you," Daryl muttered, looking away a little awkwardly. Becky smiled at his pronouncement and turned back to the car,
"Logan, get your butt out here sweetie!" The passenger side door swung open and Daryl watched the figure as it exited the car. Thank goodness she had gotten her mother's looks; red hair seemed to override the Dixon gene. She was tiny for her age, much smaller than he had expected, if he hadn't known that she'd turned seventeen not two months ago, he would have guessed her to much younger. She glanced his way with a mild interest and he could clearly see her steely blue eyes, the same colour he and his brother shared.
"Don't know if y'all would remember each other, it's been such a long time hey? How old was Loges the last time we met up…eight?" Becky pulled a pack of menthol cigarettes from her handbag and lit up, her shiny red nails glinting in the sunlight.
"Yeah," Daryl croaked, "It's been nearly ten years."
"Phew and doesn't that just fly by. Listen, Daryl. We really appreciate you taking her like this. Gabe and I are so excited for our honeymoon! But I just couldn't leave Logan at home by herself for so long. She would get into all sorts…Isn't that right babe?" She joked jovially, taking a long drag of her cigarette. The teenager standing on the other side of the car stared down at her feet and shoved her hands into the pockets of her worn looking Levis.
Daryl merely nodded, finding himself mimicking Logan's stance. Becky smiled warmly at him and tossed the butt of her smoke, stamping it out with the toe of her expensive looking shoe.
She touched Daryl's arm and drew him out of hearing range of the vehicle and the girl, who was now leaning causally against it, surveying her surroundings.
"Daryl…there is something you should know about Logan. Well, a couple of somethings," Becky softly intoned, eyeing her daughter nervously, "First off; she has that notorious Dixon attitude. I swear sometimes she seems worse than Merle ever was, maybe because of hormones. God knows. Also she…uh…Logan is a little different," she stressed the last word.
"Different how?" Daryl raised an eyebrow.
Becky shrugged and waved her hand in a dismissive action,
"The doctors don't really have a word for it, no nice ones anyway. Terms like 'borderline psychopathy' and 'mental instability' have been thrown around a bit. She won't give you any trouble, I promise," Becky reassured seeing concern flicker across Daryl's face, "It's just how she is. She doesn't experience emotions like other people so don't be surprised if she says and does the wrong things at times. She's a good kid though, and I know she'll love being here with you."
"Well guess I don't have a choice in the matter now. You enjoy your holiday." Becky's smile was genuine and Daryl could see she was more relaxed now that she had explained Logan's special circumstances to him.
"I suppose I best be off, need to get home before it gets dark and you guys have plenty of catching up to do," Becky's voice lilted cheerfully and Daryl watched as she walked back over to the car and around to her daughter, placing her hands on the teen's narrow shoulders and talking to her softly. Logan said something that Becky apparently found very amusing, as she threw her head back and laughed loudly before pulling Logan in for a hug.
Approaching them, Daryl gestured to the boot,
"You got bags and stuff? I'll help you take them inside."
Logan nodded, her choppy red locks bouncing around her heart shaped face and she reached across the passenger seat to press the button that popped the boot, revealing a large duffel bag and a smaller backpack to Daryl. He grabbed them quickly, placing them carefully on the ground near his feet and slammed the boot shut. He wasn't good at saying farewells and really didn't want to hug Becky or anything like that, so picked up the bags, turned his heel and strode toward the house,
"'Ya coming or what?" He called out to Logan as he made his way up the porch steps.
He didn't hear a response from her, but must have finished saying her goodbyes as the engine of the car started and he could hear Logan's sure steps making their way to him.
Daryl watched as she paused to wave to the retreating car and then turned back to him, an expression he couldn't name on her youthful face. He couldn't see a resemblance to him, Merle or his dad in her, except those eyes. Those damn blue eyes that every Dixon seemed to possess, although, Logan was a Lehane according to her birth certificate.
She met his gaze and held firm, a whisper of a smile appearing on her lips and she nodded to the screen door, opening it and slipping inside the dark house.
Daryl followed her, putting her bags down into the cluttered lounge room and stood, unsure of what to do from here.
Logan looked around the open living and kitchen area, seemingly not bothered by the gloominess of the interior or the mess that littered the space. She hopped up onto one of the bar stools that sat at the bar style bench dividing the room and swivelled in a full circle until she was facing Daryl again,
"So…what do you do for fun around here?" Her voice was high pitched and sweet, almost childlike.
"Not much to do in these parts, nothing a teenage girl would be interested in anyway. But I…uh…I have a TV," he gestured to the lounge area, "And I've got a huntin' trip with Uncle Jess planned for a few days. Guess you will have to tag along now." He sighed exasperatedly, wishing that Becky had given more notice before dumping the girl on him. Logan didn't seem to notice his frustrated tone and simply hopped off the stool and started down the nearby hallway. Daryl followed her quickly, pointing out the bathroom and toilet and then opening a door on the left,
"You'll sleep in here, it was ma dad's room, but it's pretty clean." He had made the bed up freshly that morning and ensured all his dad's personal effects had been removed so now it was just a plain bedroom with a double bed, small bedside table and lamp and a simple wooden wardrobe.
"That's ma room there," he pointed to the closed door at the end of the hall, "And this one here is Merle's, not that he ever uses it much. I wouldn't go in either of those if I were you." Logan registered his warning with a raise of her eyebrow and smirked at him,
"Whatever you say boss man," she chimed before entering her temporary living space and twirling around in the centre of the room, eyes drifting up to the roof. Daryl shook his head and returned to the lounge to get her bags.
"I don't really do anythin' special for dinner, so unless you can cook ya just gonna have to eat whatever I do."
"No, I can't cook. But I saw you waving that wrench around outside," she thumbed in the direction of his truck, still parked out the front, "Bet I can fix whatever is wrong."
A few minutes later, Daryl stood with his hands on his hips, watching the small girl as she repaired the serpentine belt of his Ford F-250 pickup quickly and efficiently.
"The damn thing has been troublin' me for days!"
Logan wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and threw him a grin,
"Let me guess, the turbo locked up and threw the belt right? Happens all the time in these old trucks so no biggie."
Daryl returned her grin and shook his head,
"How in Hell do ya know about any of this?"
"Oh Gabe taught me. He's a diesel mechanic."
"Oh," Daryl muttered, not really keen on discussing Becky's husband, but Logan didn't notice his disinterest and prattled on about the shop Gabe ran and how she helped out most of the time.
"You don't go to school," Daryl interrupted, closing the bonnet of the truck and cleaning his hands on a greying rag from his back pocket.
"You kidding me? I was out of that Hellhole the minute I turned fifteen. I don't tend to play well with others," Logan laughed.
"Is that so? Ya know, I don't think there has ever been a Dixon to go past the tenth grade," Daryl mused, absentmindedly chewing the side of his thumb, a nasty habit he had picked up as a child.
"Yeah well," Logan shrugged, "Call it a family tradition then." She pulled at a wisp of hair that hung across her forehead and turned her attention back to Daryl.
"Okay my man, I am pretty much desperate for a shower now so that's where I'll be at. Laters." She practically skipped up to the house, stripping out of her plaid shirt as she did and hanging it over her shoulder. Daryl could see how skinny her arms were and figured at least that meant she probably wouldn't be expensive to feed. And she had fixed his truck. Maybe things weren't going to be as bad as he had expected.
He headed back into the house after putting his tools away in the bed of the pickup and upon entering the hallway could hear the water of the shower and see the steam slowly creeping out from under the bathroom door. As he passed by there was a loud thud of something being dropped, followed by a squeal and then a string of curses that could make a sailor blush.
"Damn," Daryl murmured to himself, "She really is Merle's daughter after all."