Daryl had been the one to hear the tell-tale, obvious noises that meant something bad was happening. He had been the one to trail the noises off the beaten path, to a small clearing. He had been the one openly staring, in disgust, shock, anger, resurfacing fear. And he had been the one to knock Ed out, pull him off of his crying, sobbing daughter, and keep him knocked out until Sophia was ready to leave with him.
As it was, the battered girl still flinched when Daryl grabbed her hand. She didn't say anything about Daryl leaving her father behind; the rough-and-tumble man hoped a walker would stumble over his unconscious body. But, as it was, luck had never been on the younger Dixon's side.
The distraught child and pissed off hunter cleared the woods and hit the edge of camp, Daryl hollering Carol's name until all the women came running up from the quarry. The short haired survivor took one look at the mismatched pair – her crying, sobbing, bleeding daughter and this rough, loud, mysterious man – and kneeled down so her daughter could run to her. Which, oddly enough, Sophia didn't.
Instead, the little girl clutched tighter at the hand that held hers, looking up at the hunter as if asking for help. No, luck had never been on Daryl's side. Daryl huffed a sigh, wishing, not for the first time, that he had a cigarette. He crooked a finger at Carol and walked off towards the family's tent with Sophia in tow, the mother following behind rather submissively. Once the three got into the large tent, Carol broke first.
"What's going on?" Her worried eyes shifted between her upset daughter and Daryl, then back again, "where's my husband?" Daryl's anger flared again.
"Hopefully dead," he spat out, not missing the twin winces the girls gave in response.
Right, tact. But how do you sugarcoat this shit? The hunter reeled in his anger, managing to shake his hand free of Sophia's grasp to rub his face with both hands. When he felt Sophia fist her hands in his pant leg and shuffle closer, he sighed again.
"I found 'em, out in the woods. Your fuckin' hus–" Daryl cut himself off, shaking his head with a vengeance, "Carol, hear me out. Your husband, he was – he was hurtin' your girl." By this point, Sophia was crying again. Carol kneeled, tugging the kid towards her, hugging her and trying to ask exactly what had occurred. Daryl was uncomfortably aware of how over his head he was with the entire situation.
He shouldn't have. It wasn't his place to step in, but he had to. He couldn't let it happen to somebody else. Before he really knew it, he was outside walking across camp towards his own tent. But Carol was behind him, crying at him to explain.
"Where's Ed? What did he do to Sophia?!"
Daryl swiveled mid step, angry, scared, and sad for the girl and in part for himself. He looked right back at Carol and his frustrated fear won out.
"The monster was fuckin' your daughter! I knocked him out an' left him for walker food 'cause that's what he deserves!"
The emotional outburst brought all the attention back to them, Carol recoiling from the harsh southern accent coming out in words she didn't want to understand. But she did, and so did everyone else. Before Daryl could escape to his tent or the woods or anywhere else but there, Officer Friendly and Fuck-Face caught him by his arms and turned him right back around to face Carol and the growing crowd.
"Get your fuckin' hands offa me!" He meant it to come out meaner, harsher, but there was a growing lump in his throat that only got bigger with each memory that hit him. Daryl hadn't cried in a long time, but he didn't know if he could control it now. This was all too close to home.
"Daryl, I understand you had good intentions, but that wasn't your call. You have to lead us to Ed so we can deal with this properly." Ah, Officer Friendly. Trying to keep the peace, as always.
Daryl shook his head, not trusting his voice. His eyes landed on Sophia, who was now sitting in the entrance of the tent. She was staring right back at him, and the hunter briefly wondered if this was the first time this had happened. Probably not, he finally decided. Rick was talking to him again but he just kept shaking his head. Finally, Shane snapped.
"Why the hell do you care so much, Dixon? It's not like it happened to you!" And there it was; the line that was the beginning of Daryl's nightmare in this already nightmarish, petrifying reality.
Because it did happen to him once, so very long ago. Or a handful of times. The hunter wasn't so mentally masochistic as to count and recount the number of times his father had stumbled across his bedroom threshold drunk and looking for something warm to fall into.
Merle had never acknowledged the happenings, although Daryl was sure his brother knew about it. It was just an unspoken rule of the Dixon household; you never talked about what Pa did, drunk or sober. They just didn't.
That's why he cared so much, because at one point, it had been him unable to move. Unable to get away from a man that was supposed to protect him. Unable to stand because it hurt too much. He didn't want that for Sophia. Ed deserved to die, just like his pa had. Daryl would fight over that till the end of them all.
The hunter must've slipped away for a while, because when he came back to his own mind, he was sitting down against the RV with Rick trying to talk to him. His knuckles were bloody and over near Andrea and Amy, Shane was nursing a split lip and an already bruising eye.
"Daryl? Hey, Daryl. You back with me now?" Confused, angry blue eyes slid over to concerned, serious brown ones. Daryl blinked owlishly, nodding once he knew for sure that he was grounded. Rick clapped him on the shoulder and sighed.
"So, care to explain?" The ex-cop leaned away and waved his hands towards Shane. Daryl shrugged; it was the best he was going to offer.
"You said, 'you don't know shit about me or how I grew up'." Getting no response but Daryl clenching his teeth, Rick scowled. He hadn't wanted to continue. "You also said something about your dad, Daryl…"
Well, fuck. Wasn't that just the icing on the cake. "Whatever I said – don't mean shit no more," Daryl choked out, swallowing hard. He muttered a few choice words and pushed himself up, turning to walk away before his apparent runaway mouth dug his hole any deeper.
"Daryl, wait," and Rick was right there again, pulling him back against the RV, getting into his personal space. Daryl didn't like it. Snarling, the roughneck shoved the ex-cop away.
"Don't fuckin' touch me," he growled out. Rick's glare hardened as he stared Daryl down.
"Yeah, you would have issues with people touchin' you, wouldn't you? It only makes sense, with what you said." The hunter's carefully put together composure shattered and rained down around his feet as he raced for a response and couldn't find one. Rick's expression softened a bit at the genuine pain and fear, the insecurity that flickered across Daryl's face. He could have a sharp bite if he wanted to, but that didn't mean he liked causing pain with it. Rick sighed, holding his hands up in a peace offering.
"Daryl, listen. I'm sorry; that was uncalled for. It's just- you kinda dropped a bombshell on us all." Daryl silently nodded his agreement, biting away at his thumbnail and making it bleed as he averted his gaze.
"But I was serious when I said leaving Ed behind was not your choice to make." The hunter's eyes snapped back to Rick's as he tore his thumb out of his mouth, ready to protest. Rick would have none of it.
"No, Daryl, listen. I don't know where your head is, but you best get it straight quick. I do know that you're shook up right now. I get it, I do. Ed must've brought up some bad memories, but you need to push that aside for a while. Can you lead some of us back to where Ed is?" A few seconds passed in baited hesitation, and Daryl's heart stuttered over its own beats as he nodded his head yes.
Never had Daryl felt so unsafe in the woods. Apprehension clouded every move he made, but his instincts and memory didn't fail him as he led the way. Rick, Glenn and T-Dog had come with him as back up; Daryl was just thankful that none of the girls had offered to come. He didn't want Ed to get his hands on or even see anyone else.
The clearing that it had happened in wasn't even five steps away now, but Daryl stopped just short of leaving the trees and walking into view. Rick stepped past the hunter, patting him gently on the shoulder once as he did. Daryl still flinched.
The three stepped into view of the clearing, Rick calling out quietly to see if Ed was still there. They waited, fidgeting, weapons at the ready, but nothing happened. Rick turned to watch as Daryl, slightly crouched, crept into the clearing, looking around himself wearily in the same fashion as the animals he was always hunting.
Ed came out of nowhere, tackling Daryl to the ground before the hunter could even think about protecting himself. The crossbow dug into his back, his head snapping back as Ed rammed a fist into his jaw. He was pretty sure he bit his tongue, too.
His head was still tipped back and he began to choke on his own blood as Ed dealt out blow after blow to his face, stomach and anywhere else he could reach. And all Daryl could think about was his father. He didn't register when Ed was pulled off of him, or who restrained the enraged man as he rolled to his hands and knees and spat out mouthfuls of blood; Daryl barely registered Glenn trying to pull him up.
Finally, his body began to respond the way he needed it to. Daryl locked his hand around Glenn's forearm, his ears ringing as the world spun around him. He was standing though, no matter how wobbly. The shorter man weaseled Daryl's arm around his own shoulders, looping an arm around Daryl's waist as he maneuvered them out of the clearing and back towards camp.
The walk back to camp with Glenn was awkward. It wasn't so much the silence that was weird; it was the fact that Daryl was so lost in his head that he didn't really acknowledge Glenn's presence, even when the hunter was talking at him. He tried to respond at some points, but nothing the scout said stuck. The only thing Glenn could compare it to was the drunken rambles of his uncle he once had been subjected to. It wasn't pleasant, then or now. Glenn felt like he was intruding on something he never should've stumbled upon.
"M'pa was kind of uh…asshole," Daryl muttered. Glenn snorted.
"That seems to be a huge understatement at this point." Finally, Daryl responded to him. It was only a sidelong glance with a hindered smirk and a chuckle, but it was still a response. When they had gotten about ten feet further, Daryl apologized. Glenn shrugged around the hunter's arm and frowned down at the ground as Daryl stumbled slightly.
"You're good, dude. You're fine."
T-Dog had Ed pinned to the ground face down, arms twisted and pinned behind his back. Rick was suddenly glad that his habit of carrying handcuffs hadn't broken, even in the apocalypse.
"T-Dog," Rick sighed out when he finally got the handcuffs onto Ed, "you would've made a good cop." T-Dog just smiled back at Rick, and the ex-cop began to feel like he was missing something.
"What?" The smile turned into a shit eating grin.
"Nah, man, I spent most of my time runnin' from them cops, I just know their ways." Rick just stared at the darker man, trying to think of something to say to that. T-Dog busted out laughing before he could though.
"Oh man! You shoulda seen your face, Rick! I'm straight, dude, I ain't ever been in trouble with the law." The sentence was accompanied by a wavering hand motion and more laughter at Rick's expense, so instead of responding, the ex-cop pulled Ed up with an amused huff and hurried off towards camp as well.
When T-Dog and Rick arrived with Ed, there was almost no one in sight.
"Here, T-Dog. Take Ed to the RV and watch him for me, will you?" Rick handed their prisoner over to the other man, heading towards Daryl's tent first. The flap was unzipped, so Rick just flipped it open. No one was in it, strangely enough. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Rick turned to head back to the RV. He was at the right angle, though, and could see Glenn on top of the RV, on watch. How he missed that in the first place, he didn't know.
"Glenn," the ex-cop called out, and the capped head swiveled towards him. He leaned over the edge of the vehicle as Rick came closer.
"What's up, Rick?"
Pointing behind himself at the vacant tent, the ex-cop continued, "Do you know where Daryl's at?" Glenn seemed to glance over his shoulder a bit, then nodded back at Rick.
"Yeah, he's uh – he's actually up here with me." Rick gave him a disbelieving look, but the scout just shrugged. Climbing up the ladder to the top of the RV, the ex-cop peeked over the ledge and saw Glenn sitting, Daryl a little further away, laying on his stomach with his shirt off. His head was pillowed on his shirt and folded arms, and there were deep, red lacerations all over his back. Rick nodded in his direction.
"What happened?" Glenn shrugged.
"When I asked, he just muttered something about his crossbow and Ed, so I guess it was when Ed tackled him," the scout's face twisted up in pity, knowing it must've hurt.
"The weird thing is, though…" Glenn trailed off, turning to look back at Daryl's sleeping form, "man, Rick. He's got scars that look like they're years old all across his back. Some of them are real long and deep. It's not right." Rick's eyes flickered back to the young scavenger when his voice cracked, watching as Glenn pulled his cap off and ran a shaky hand through his hair before jamming the tattered thing back on his head.
"Glenn, nothing's right anymore," Rick started off softly, "but if Daryl catches you – or anyone else for that matter – tryin' to throw him a pity party, then he might just kill us all." Glenn snorted, hardly amused.
"Yeah. Become a cannibal instead of hunting squirrels. Gotcha."
Rick climbed down after throwing a final look towards Daryl, wondering briefly why the man was still pretending to be asleep through that conversation. Back up on the RV, Daryl was wondering the same thing.
Carol hadn't let Sophia out of her sight since the incident. Her daughter was edgy, reticent; flinched back at the gentlest of touches. Carol hated it. It had been nearly three days and they had not seen Ed. For once, everyone seemed to be on Dixon's side – nobody felt safe with the volatile man around.
'Maybe they should've just left him,' Carol thought numbly, doing laundry with a few of the other women and watching Carl try to play with Sophia out of the corner of her eye. The mother really did appreciate the kid's attempt to cheer her daughter up, only sometimes, it just served to aggravate Sophia.
"Carol!" Her name was called by a familiar, gruff voice, and she turned on her knees to see what was going on. Daryl was coming down the hill towards them, glancing around wearily as if looking for something. His eyes landed on the kids and his step faltered just a tiny bit; a minute hesitation that was barely noticeable. Carol smiled weakly at it, anyway. She got up to meet Daryl half way, wiping her wet hands on the back of her shirt.
"What's up?" The hunter looked uncharacteristically nervous. He edged back away from her, fidgeting with his belt loops as he spoke.
"They need you up there. Your opinion matters the most and everything, y'know?" Carol's face fell when she realized what Daryl was talking about.
"Oh. Well, alright then," the mother turned towards the children who had stopped playing and were now staring back at the two adults. "Sophia," she called out, "I'll be back. Stay here, please." Looking back at Daryl, she dropped her voice, "you'll watch them, won't you?" He stared at her, almost not comprehending the words, before nodding slowly and trudging over to where the kids were.
As he went, he muttered, "I ain't no damn babysitter," but no other complaints came out of the man as he sat himself down a few feet from the kids. Carl vocally greeted him and Sophia waved, so he nodded his head back at them and watched them draw in the dirt silently.
Carol made her way towards the RV, the only real place of privacy. Sure enough, before the woman could even get to the door, it swung open for her. Shane moved from the doorway, still sporting a shiner and a split lip. She fought the urge to recoil; his face startled her every time. Carol – well, everyone really – had known that Daryl was a bit of a hothead, but never had the man just turned on a dime and fought like that.
("It's not like it happened to me?! It doesn't fuckin' matter, you prick! You dunno shit about me or how I grew up!" Daryl was on Shane within seconds, going straight for the face shots. "You dunno nothin' 'bout me! What m'pa used to do to me! You don't know a damn thing!")
Carol sighed and muttered something that sounded dangerously close to a prayer, gathering her courage and stepping up into the RV. Shane shut the door behind her, still saying nothing but motioning past where T-Dog and Rick were sitting. She moved through the RV and past the two men, sliding behind the curtain and into the back room.
Ed was handcuffed to the mounted bed, his wrists bandaged from where the cuffs had been digging into his skin. When he looked up, the man's expression changed from sullen irritation to full out, simmering rage.
"The fuck do you want, you dumb bitch?" He spat it out with venom dripping off every word, but Carol was steadfast and didn't flinch back. No, the mother was much too angry for that. She lifted her chin up at him, eyeing her husband with a fury of her own.
"A divorce, for one, but that's not going to happen. So instead, I want to know what you think you deserve." She finally said quietly, watching as confusion slipped into Ed's eyes.
"What do you mean? How 'bout you get me out of here and I'll show you exactly what I think I deserve, huh?" The man rattled the handcuffs hard, lips twisting into a snarl. Carol just shook her head. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and turned to walk out. Ed kept calling after her.
"Where you going, Carol?! Where the hell you going, you stupid bitch? Huh? You think you can decide what's gonna happen to me? Carol!" The battered woman's resolve had almost crumbled by the time she stepped out into the fresh air and out of the stuffy RV, pacing away from the door and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Carol, you okay?" T-Dog came out after her, attention torn between the situation inside the RV and the upset woman outside. After a few shaky breaths, Carol nodded her head.
"Yeah, I'm okay," her voice shook just the tiniest bit, and she paced away even further. T-Dog called out to her.
"So, what do you want us to do with him?" Carol studied the perplexed look on the man's face, watched as he anxiously pressed his tongue to the small gap in his otherwise straight white teeth.
"Kill him." He could've laughed at how blunt and blatant she had said it, how nonchalant she had sent a man he knew she must have loved at some point, off to death, if not for the ferocity present in her voice.
Carol didn't know how they did it, if Ed had suffered or if it had been quick. Some part of her hoped it had been; she hadn't felt anything but resentment and anger for the man in quite some time, but he hadn't always been a monster. Thankfully, the good memories were so tainted that that fact didn't much bother Carol, as bad as that may sound.
In this world, they already had to fear the dead. No sense in having to watch your back around the living, too; not if there was a simple solution like a bullet to the head. Carol groaned again as she woke up just a bit more, becoming more conscious by the second. She rolled onto her side, hand roving over blankets, searching for the smaller, warm body of her daughter. It wasn't there. The mother's eyes snapped open as she bolted up, fumbling with the tent's zipper and edging closer to hysterics.
"Sophia!" She cried out, practically falling over herself as she whipped her head around, searching for blonde hair and a blue shirt. She found it, crouching down near the fire pit along with a rugged, shredded flannel-wearing man.
Both were smiling as if whatever they were doing was a huge secret, and as Carol pulled herself together, she watched as Daryl poked Sophia in the forehead and her daughter flopped back with a giggle. The hunter's smile widened, and Carol felt her heartbeat slow as she realized her daughter was more than alright.
The mother ducked back into the tent, getting dressed properly before heading back out and walking over to Daryl and Sophia. Their backs were turned to her, so Carol had the drop on them as she crept up and peeked over their shoulders. Daryl had his wallet out, flipping through the little pictures he still had in there. Pausing at one of Merle holding him in a headlock, the hunter smiled fondly at the photo. Carol almost gasped as she saw that Daryl's brother was dressed in Army fatigues.
"This one–" Daryl had to clear his throat before continuing, "Merle'd just came home from his tour in Iraq. You can't see it here, because my head is down, but I was cryin' like a little bitch." Daryl chuckled, rough and thick like he was about to cry again, and then Sophia glanced up at him.
"Mr. Daryl?" She began quietly, not seeing him flip the picture over,
"Don't call me 'Mister'," he mumbled, some of the good humor drained from his voice, "makes me feel old." She nodded, as if she had known he would say that.
"Daryl, do you think you'll ever see your brother again?" The hunter's head picked up as he rubbed at his face tiredly.
"It's a possibility," he said, finally, slowly. He found that he rather liked that idea, seein' Merle again. He didn't like to think about the other possibility, of seeing Merle but it not being…Merle.
But there was always hope. Behind them, Carol smiled fondly. Yeah. Hope was a single possibility among a thousand worries, and the odds may be against them, but it was still a possibility.