Summary: After Rick, Glenn, and Hershal end up bringing one of the guys who were shooting at them at the bar, back to the farm, Daryl questions him. This is how that scene might play out a little differently.
A/N: Before you think that Daryl is too out of character, know that this is sort of a Firefly AU story! Because, you know, Rick's coat is a brownish color after all.
...
Interrogation
Rick unlocked the door to the old shed and pushed it open, letting light fall on the prisoner bound inside. Hershal had patched up the boy's leg as best he could and now he sat on the ground, hands tied tightly to the post behind him.
Daryl followed Rick inside and pulled the door shut once more.
"Hello?" the prisoner called out hesitantly, before Rick yanked his blindfold off.
On second thought, the kid looked like he was maybe in his late teens, early twenties. These days it was hard to tell.
Rick looked down at the prisoner, his face hard.
"Now, I need to know about the group you were with," Rick said, then nodded at the man standing beside him, "I've given Daryl here the job of finding out."
"He was non-specific as to how," Daryl informed the boy, brandishing his hunting knife.
The prisoner's eyes went wide in alarm.
Rick turned to Daryl and said in a lower tone, "Now, you only gotta scare him."
"Pain is scary," the other man replied.
"Just do it right," Rick said as he opened the door and left.
Daryl spotted an old stool in the corner of the shed and dragged it over, letting the legs scrape loudly against the floor, and sat in front of the prisoner.
"Hey, hey, hey, I've got nothing against you people," the boy said in a rush, "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know?"
He shook his head fervently, "I ain't got nothing against you. You've got to see that! Please don't kill me just for a mix-up like that!"
"Aw, I'm not gonna kill you, boy," Daryl smiled, slapping the hostage's leg with the flat side of his knife before pointing it at him, "What's your name?"
Unsettled, the boy replied hesitantly, "Randal."
"Randal," Daryl repeated, "I'm just gonna cut on ya till you tell me what I need to know. How many's in your group? You got a camp, huh?"
"Yeah, yeah, we got a camp," Randal said, eyes nervously following Daryl's knife, "outskirts of town."
"How many people you got?"
"They don't even know where I am. They probably think I'm dead right now, man," Randal said earnestly, sifting his legs uncomfortably, "I ain't a threat to you people, I swear!"
Daryl studied Randal's face for a second, then stood up, "Aw, see? That's a damn lie. It's all over your face."
He turned back quickly and slugged Randal hard in the jaw. Daryl pushed the stool aside and crouched down in front of Randal, staring hard into his face.
"Well, Randal, I'll tell ya, this is disappointing as hell. How'd you even survive this long? Can't even tell a damn lie."
Reeling from the blow, Randal's eyes shifted around the shed. "Alright, man. I got nothing to hide…"
"Start talking, boy," Daryl ordered.
Randal took a shaky breath, "We got almost thirty people, men and women. Heavily armed too, automatics. Set up over at the old campground off the highway, out in the woods."
Daryl narrowed his eyes at Randal for a moment, then stood again, clearly disappointed.
"I ain't even…" Daryl gestured with his knife in frustration, "I was gonna get me an ear, too."
The End.
A/N: Am I the only one who thinks Rick and Daryl have a Mal and Jayne kind of dynamic going on? They start out at odds but eventually learn to trust and rely on each other.