Daryl almost doesn't believe his eyes when he sees her. She's wearing that preppy yellow polo and white cardigan from the golf club, all stained with walker guts but she's still the loveliest thing he's ever seen. He never thought he'd see her again, chose to believe she was gone because Daryl Dixon isn't one for hoping. But there she is. Getting closer by the second.
There's a dreamlike quality about the moment when he sees her as she's backlit by the light from the windows, her hair shining like spun gold. But as she gets closer the dream twists into a nightmare. Her face is slashed with vicious red lines, freshly stitched and glaring against her milky skin.
The simmering rage in his chest boils over as he wonders which one of these fucks is responsible. His stomach drops like a stone when he registers that the pale, slumped body in the wheelchair she's pushing is Carol. There they are; the two people who care most about him in the world; maybe the only people who have ever had the patience to care about him at all.
There they are; wounded and captive. Their startling vulnerability pushes down the fear rising in his chest, twisting it into a sharp and volatile fury. She doesn't look at him. He watches as her darting eyes track the stern faced brunette in front of her, wary and haunted as though she's seen things in the time they've been apart.
Been shown things, more like. The coil of his anger pulls a little tighter until it's straining. He's almost surprised when the brunette turns out to be Dawn, the bitch in charge of this shit show. He drags his eyes away from Beth with some effort to watch as this woman questions Rick, raising her chin in a show of confidence.
But that's all it is: a show.
Daryl sees right through her. He hears the tremble in her voice that she's trying to suppress. He can see it in her eyes that she's barely holding on by a thread. This is a woman who has been walked over too many times, seized power with both hands and will hold onto it at any cost.
Judging by the desperate faces behind her the cost is high and still rising. The tighter she holds on the more control slips from her grasp. The terror of being pushed aside is coming off of her in waves. This is a woman coming apart at the seams. She looks more scared than Beth does about how this will go down.
If the icy contempt in Beth's gaze when it swings to her is anything to go by, then she should be scared. The tightly wound coil twists tighter, bringing him close to breaking point.
"One of yours for one of mine," Dawn demands, positioning herself as the gatekeeper of this exchange.
"Move," Daryl barks as he shoves their first hostage forward harder than necessary.
Chest tight, he stomps forward and makes the exchange for Carol. When he looks at her and meets her beaten, muddled gaze he has to look away because the coil of his anger winds even tighter, and a tremor crawls up his spine. Daryl hasn't seen Carol look like that for a long time; since the last time they were in Atlanta, when her husband was still alive and throwing punches.
It's startling to see her revert back to that shell of a person, all of her strength drained. He thinks what kind of a person Dawn is to have taken that away from her. It's all he can do not to kill each and every one of these cops, to light this place up like a Christmas tree.
But that's not the play. His knuckles are bone white around the strap of his bow and a tremble works its way across his rigid shoulders. Daryl watches Rick walk the female cop forward for the second exchange. His jaw clenches at the way this Dawn drags Beth by the arm, making her stagger like a rag doll.
Once Beth passes the middle ground, he feels a wave of relief run through him, only to be quickly chased by a stab of something a lot like jealousy as he watches Rick cup Beth's skull and press a kiss to her hairline. Even if he was stood where Rick is now he knows he wouldn't have the nerve to touch her. Wonders if he could ever be so bold, now that he might have the chance to.
It's done.
People start to visibly relax and turn their separate ways until Dawn's voice cuts through the air like a knife.
"Now I just need Noah."
Silence.
For a split second nobody even breathes. After a moment he hears Rick trying to reason with her but he doesn't register the words or her responses because all of his attention is on Beth.
She's staring straight ahead and she looks like she's on the edge of something.
Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Noah start to come forward. He feels his arm shoot out, shoving him back with the rest of their group where he belongs.
"He ain't stayin'," he growls, coming to stand with Rick.
"Then we don't have a deal," Dawn says in a voice that is an attempt at cutting. Daryl is close enough to hear the pitch of desperation and see her chin tremble, betraying her uncertainty.
"It's ok," Noah says, limping up to Rick's other side. As he does so Rick's jaw twitches with a growing frustration that mirrors Daryl's own.
"No," Rick puts a hand up to hold him back but he pushes forward.
"I got to do it," Noah says simply, pulling out his gun and passing it to Rick. His pupils are disappearing into the whites of his eyes but his voice is solid, resigned. Noah's head is bowed heavily like a noose hangs around it but he keeps dragging himself forward. This kid has guts. More guts than the woman in front of him who barely has control of her own breathing, let alone this place.
"It's not okay," he hears Beth say quietly from behind him, her voice like a scream with the volume turned down.
"It's settled," Dawn says, the corners of her mouth turning up, smug in her victory.
As Noah starts to walk away Beth suddenly rushes forward making Rick and Daryl spin, leaning towards her.
"Wait!" She pleads, wrapping her arms around Noah.
Daryl just stares, as Rick stares beside him, gut twisting as Noah forces a smile for Beth.
"It's ok," he murmurs as she embraces him, faking enough positivity in his voice that he's almost convincing.
Dawn watches them from where she's stood a short distance away. "I knew you'd be back," she says coldly, it's barely audible but Daryl catches it.
Beth's body goes rigid and she raises her head to look at Dawn. Daryl can't see her face from where he's stood but he watches her shoulders tense and imagines her face doing the same. As Beth and Noah part, Beth steps forward to stand eye to eye with Dawn as Noah shuffles back behind the cops. There are sirens in Daryl's heart as he watches Dawn's lip tremble under Beth's gaze.
"I get it now," Beth whispers, her voice drowning in raw emotion.
Dawn stares back blankly as Beth straightens up ever so slightly like she's made a decision. Daryl doesn't blink as he watches Beth's jaw clench too tightly like his own jaw is clenching, and something clicks into place.
There's a flash of metal from under Beth's sleeve and Dawn reaches for her gun.
Then a gunshot rattles through his bones and bounces off the walls.
Hot blood splatters across his face.
He's surprised when he discovers his arm stretched out in front of him, and realises that the shot came from his gun.
The sound of the gunshot rings in his ears as Beth stumbles back and collides with his chest. Keeping his gun arm up, his other arm wraps around Beth's waist and holds her steady against him. They're close enough that he can feel her heart pounding too fast like a bird, through her back and into his chest.
The corridor fills with the sound of guns being cocked on both sides.
Daryl yanks Beth by a bruising grip on her arm and twists his body so that she's shielded by his broad shoulders. The only thing between them and the huddle of trigger happy cops is the dead body of their fallen comrade who he just killed. They didn't come here to start a bloodbath and the realisation sinks in that he may have just got them all killed. He was reckless, acting on impulse and not thinking past protecting Beth. He knows it was stupid just as he knows that he'd do it again in a heartbeat
He feels Rick at his back as he stares down the barrel of a shaking gun, Beth's hot breath streaming across his bicep in shallow pants.
"No! Stop! It's over!" A female cop cries, holding her arms out, "It was just about her."
The cops on either side of her freeze, and he can feel the uncertainty palpable in the air that surrounds them.
"Stand down," the woman grates out, head spinning as she locks eyes with each of her people.
Slowly, the cops start to holster their weapons, their eyes darting around warily. Daryl's eyes drop to the ground in front of them, watching as blood rapidly pools around Dawn's dead body. Noah stands beside her, looking on in disbelief.
"You can stay," he hears someone say. "We're surviving here."
Beth's hand comes to rest on his arm, and he realises he's holding onto her so tight it must be painful. He lets go and jerks backwards as his breath comes out in ragged pants. He almost collides with Rick, colt held loosely at his side and his neck painted with Dawn's blood.
Rick's hand grabs the back of Daryl's neck and pulls him in close. When their eyes meet Daryl doesn't attempt to hide the way he shakes as the spent adrenaline leaves his body. His breath leaves him in a gush as Rick leans their foreheads together, forcing Daryl to meet his intense blue gaze.
"You did good, Daryl," Rick says quietly, holding Daryl's eyes. "It was the right move. It was the only move."
Daryl bites his top lip, staring back at Rick with flickering eyes for a moment, then nods and looks away. When his eyes swing back to Beth she's staring down at Dawn's motionless body, her eyes blank and her chest rising and falling a little too fast. Daryl considers going over to her, but before he can find the momentum, Noah is cupping her elbow and moving her away.
With a shaky exhale, Daryl straightens and forces one foot in front of the other, following Sacha and Tyrese through the double doors.
It's only when the doors swing behind him, putting some distance between them and the cops, that Daryl reluctantly shoves his gun into the front of the jeans. His nerves are still a jangling mess under his skin as he grinds his teeth down to the enamel.
They're halfway down the corridor when Daryl feels Beth's fingers curve around his bicep. When he looks down at Beth and she looks up he's shocked by the spark he feels in his chest. It's the first time she's looked at him since the funeral home. Since they sat eating peanut butter with their fingers by candlelight.
Since she blinked up at him owlishly, staring into his soul as a soft 'oh' fell from her lips. Right before he lost her, before they took her right in front of him. Like she so very nearly let them take her from him again just now.
He's trying so hard to keep himself together even with his nerves shot to shit and his body shaking with spent adrenaline, but when he looks at her it all comes apart. The tightly wound coil of his anger snaps.
"Daryl, I wanted to thank-"
"What the FUCK were you thinkin'?" He snarls, rounding on her so suddenly she takes a step back, eyes growing huge in her flushed face. "I thought you were smart but you really are just a dumb kid," he hisses, looming over her and getting in her face. Beth doesn't flinch as he jabs a finger at her, but something in her gaze hardens at his words.
He hears Carol's wheelchair roll to a stop and knows the rest of the group have stopped to watch his outburst.
"What the hell were you gonna do with the world's tiniest pair of scissors? Huh?" He spits. He can hear accent getting thicker as his temper flares and his face grows hot like he's been drinking.
"I was thinking about somebody other than myself, you should try it!" Beth throws back. Her fingers clench and unclench into fists at her sides.
"Are we back on the farm? You so quick to throw your life away again?" Daryl shouts, stepping deeper into her space. Beth stands her ground and his chest brushes hers with each deep inhale.
When their eyes catch he freezes.
His stomach lurches with guilt. There are standing tears in her eyes and she rapidly tries to blink them away but she doesn't let them fall. As he drags in a breath shame washes over him and floods his chest. Silence hangs heavily between them, pervading and filling the entire corridor until it's almost suffocating.
For a split second the red mist clears as he locks eyes with Beth's bright blue pools and a defeated sigh falls out of him. Her eyes soften as they search his face and his mouth falls open – but then he glances over her shoulder and his scowl deepens.
He feels the eyes of the group drilling into him from all angles; seeing him for the red neck asshole he always was, and the hurt in Beth's eyes tells him he still is.
In a swirl of hurt and anger, he turns and storms away, violently kicking a gurney out of his path. The last thing he hears is a sob tear its way out of Beth, cutting through him like the lash of a belt.
