The sound was weird. That was what made Rick take notice. The voice he could hear behind that door was angry, scared. He stopped short, listened. A loud thump, like something hitting the floor hard. Then grunts. A scuffle. And a moan.

Then the door to Daryl's room opened and out stepped Shane. Rick retreated a couple of paces, and Shane leered at him, clearly way past drunk. Rick raised an eyebrow, gestured at the door.

"What were you doing in there?"

Shane scoffed. Rick thought he looked tense, guilty. But then he said in an offhand way, "Teaching the redneck a lesson, is all. Dixon's totally tanked, man… don't agree with his manners."

And without another word Shane sauntered off. Rick's eyes narrowed. He didn't trust this at all. And the scratches he had noticed on Shane's neck looked very recent. Rick hesitated. True, he and Daryl had not gotten off to a good start. But considering Rick had just left his brother shackled to a roof full of walkers when they'd met Daryl could have stayed mad for much longer and Rick wouldn't have blamed him. And if Shane had done some real damage to the man Rick should better find out now.

So he opened the door through which Shane had just come. There was no light on inside, and Rick's eyes needed a moment to adjust to the gloom of a room only dimly lit from the corridor behind him. He would never be sure later, but at the time he thought he saw Daryl just scrambling to button his pants. The man was lying on the floor, his back to the door, and started pushing himself up as Rick walked over the threshold.

"You all right?"

Daryl didn't give any indication that he'd heard him, just continued to struggle to his feet. He used a chair for leverage and finally managed to get back upright. To Rick he looked like he was in pain. Daryl was leaning on the back of the chair, one hand pressed into his side. He still didn't look around.

As Rick stepped closer Daryl flinched away violently before Rick was even close enough to touch. Not looking round, keeping his back towards him, Rick could just about make out the words when Daryl finally mumbled, "'m all right."

It was clear to Rick that nothing more would be forthcoming, and all he was doing was making the other man nervous. He retraced his steps. Rick didn't like leaving Daryl like this, bent over, clearly struggling and in pain, but he wasn't sure what to do. He stopped at the door, hesitated a moment, then said, "Let me know if you need anything, all right?" Daryl stayed motionless, so Rick closed the door as quietly as he'd opened it.

He stood in the corridor for a minute, hand still on the door knob, considering. Rick was sure that Shane had given Daryl quite the beating. By the looks of it he'd kicked the other man hard in the ribs when he was on the floor. Quite apart from disliking this behavior in his colleague and best friend, Rick was struggling with the why. What could Daryl have done to provoke Shane? Rick hadn't seen them interact all evening.

And was this really all that had gone on in that room? With a last, thoughtful look at the door Rick started towards the room he was sharing with his family.

-.-

That fucking Lori bitch. It was her fault, all of this. If Rick was suspicious now, she was to blame. How dare she lead him around by his dick for weeks, and now play Miss Innocent. She'd been happy enough for Shane to protect her, fuck her, take care of her and her brat as long as she thought Rick was dead. Now he was back, and all of a sudden Shane was the bad guy? He didn't fucking believe it.

And that redneck whore. Shane hadn't planned anything like what had happened with Dixon when he'd gone from Lori straight to that man's room. All he'd wanted was to vent his frustration on someone without serious repercussions. He was spoiling for a good fight, and Dixon would give him that, he'd been sure. Unlikely that someone would come to his aid, or call Shane up on his bullshit, either.

It had gone south almost right away. Sure, Daryl had fought him tooth and nail, but like a cornered animal, not a man. He'd taken Shane's hissed abuse with barely a flicker of anger in his eyes. Shane thought he looked resigned, and that had made him want to hurt that weakling even more.

When he'd grabbed Daryl roughly by the arm the other man had flinched away. Shane had slammed him into the wall, and the way Daryl's head had connected hard with the concrete had given Shane a jolt of sadistic pleasure that went straight to his cock.

Then the expression in Daryl's eyes had changed. Darkly clouding over with the pain, Shane was suddenly staring at something feral, wild, and dangerous. Then Daryl had struck back.

The redneck was strong, Shane had to give him that. But bare-knuckle strength was no match for his police training. Before Dixon could even land one good punch Shane had tackled him easily and wrestled him to the floor.

As he was lying there, breathing hard, pinning the writhing man down with his body Shane had suddenly known what the punishment for this one had to be.

The odd thing, Shane realized later, was that Daryl had made no sound throughout the entire ordeal.

-.-

Daryl's hands were shaking as he propped the crossbow up against the side of the bed. He sat down gingerly, then stretched out on his right side, which was the least sore. He let out his breath slowly and winced as his body relaxed into the mattress. Each inhalation was painful, but at least his head was throbbing less now that he was horizontal.

He gingerly touched his ribs where Shane had kicked him hardest, right towards the end. The light touch sent a jolt of pain all the way to the base of his skull and he groaned. From experience he'd say at least one rib was cracked.

Daryl shifted himself around, trying and failing to be more comfortable. He could feel the other source of soreness with every move, felt his underwear and pants sticking to his thighs. He knew he should clean the cum off and check for injuries; most likely what he was feeling on the inside of his legs was blood. But he felt too defeated to deal with this right now.

He had no idea what had brought this on. Shane hadn't really paid him any heed since the morning Rick had left Merle chained to the roof and Daryl had tried to attack Rick. Sure, he'd thrown the odd redneck insult at him, been a bit rough when he'd wrestled Daryl away from Rick and to the ground. Daryl was used to rough treatment from cops. Scrap that, he was used to rough treatment from everyone.

But this, he just couldn't figure it out. He'd seen the scratches to Shane's neck before the other man had lain into him. Who had scratched him? Daryl was sure that there lay the cause for Shane's behavior.

And there was also Rick. What had he seen? And what had Shane said to him? Daryl knew he wouldn't be able to confide any of this to the second cop. Rough treatment and disbelief, that's what he knew a Dixon could expect from a cop. Whatever Rick had seen, Daryl knew he'd side with Shane, even if Shane told him utter bullshit. As for the others, Daryl didn't expect help from any of them. He was at best tolerated, at worst feared by these people. Better keep his distance, even if that meant fighting this alone, as usual.

None of this was a surprise, and none of it was new. The whole episode just seemed like a cruel, never ending déjà vu to Daryl. Whatever he'd received at Shane's hand, he'd had the same, and worse, over and over again, since childhood. From his dad, from Merle, from Merle's stupid friends. Why should the world ending change anything for Daryl Dixon?

And yet… Daryl felt bitterness rising in his throat like bile, and tears prickling close to the surface just behind closed eyelids. He'd really done his best with these people, didn't want them to think of him just as an inconvenience. But it seemed that whatever he tried to do in this miserable life of his, he was doomed to failure.

Bitterness was suddenly replaced with utter exhaustion. The tears that had been threatening for a while finally broke free and ran down his face. Daryl knew he should shake the lethargy, get out of bed and clean up. Instead, he rolled over onto his other side to face the wall, ignoring the pain from his ribs.

Daryl didn't move again that night. He didn't try to stop crying, just let the tears run silently, until finally he fell asleep.