Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Prisoner

The first thing he noticed the second he opened his eyes was that the back of his head hurt like a motherfucker. The throbbing pain coupled with the sick feeling in his gut reminded him that he'd had one hell of a night. And it wasn't the kind of night that ended with your head hanging over the toilet. It was the kind of night that ended in the back of a police cruiser with handcuffs. He remembered going to the bar. He remembered leaving to walk home. And he remembered being read his rights and getting knocked pretty hard on the back of the head. Aside from that, the rest of the night was shrouded in mystery.

Groaning, he lifted his head up from the table, blinking and squinting into the painful florescent light that surrounded him. His vision was blurred for a moment, until the glint of light on a sheriff's badge caught his attention.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Dixon," came the slow, cocky drawl of Deputy Shane Walsh of the King County Sheriff's department. "You remember why you're in here?"

"In the drunk tank, I expect," he muttered. "Ya'll know I ain't like my damned brother. I had a bad night, went out for a few drinks. Got outta hand, is all. Didn't have to fuckin' knock me out." Deputy Walsh cleared his throat and tapped his fingertips against the table he sat at across from Daryl. "The hell you got me in here for?" He looked around to see an officer standing next to a big, steel door. In all corners of the room were cameras, and Daryl noted the big mirror on one wall. He'd seen enough crime show dramas in his life to know that was a two-way mirror.

"What do you remember, exactly, Daryl?" Shane asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man. Daryl stared at him, feeling a stinging in his eyes and a clutch in his throat as he tried not to throw up.

"I remember I had a shitty day at work. Went out for a damned drink. I remember one of you assholes knocking me out. I think I have Sheriff Grimes to thank for that, don't I?"

"No, that was me," Shane replied, a smirk curling at his lip. "You remember anything else?" Daryl gaped at him. "You remember making it home last night?"

"No," Daryl replied.

"Yeah? Maybe that's 'cause you didn't go home." Daryl sighed heavily, clasping his hands together as the chain from his cuffs rattled against the hard plastic table. "You remember taking a little detour to Rangeline Avenue?" Daryl's face grew pale.

"Why the hell would I do somethin' like that?"

"You wanna tell me why you were found wandering down Rangeline covered in blood?" Daryl glance down to find himself wearing a pair of grey, scrub-like pants with a matching top. Shit.

"Where's my clothes?"

"They're evidence. For now, you can hang out in these duds. You're probably gonna be wearing them for a good long while."

"What the hell happened?" Daryl groaned.

"That's what we're gonna find out," Shane replied, leaning forward, raising an eyebrow. "You should get comfortable, Daryl. You ain't going anywhere." Daryl felt his stomach tighten as he leaned forward.

"Just tell me what the hell happened," he snapped. "What happened out on Rangeline?" The heavy weight he felt in the pit of his stomach told him all he needed to know, but it wasn't until the words left Deputy Walsh's lips that he felt the white hot grip of fear creep up his spine.

"Dixon, you're being held as the prime suspect in the beating and savage murder of Will Dixon. You have the right to an attorney, but I know you can't afford one. One will be appointed to you, and I suggest, unless you got a confession to make, you best not say a word 'til she gets here."

"My father?" Daryl asked. "My father's dead?" Shane leaned forward again.

"And there's a whole host of witnesses who can testify to you threatening to kill him just, what, six months ago?"

"That ain't what that was!" Daryl insisted. "He was told to stay away, and he came lookin' to bum money. You know what he did to my mama. You think I wanted him around?"

"Daryl, you were found covered in blood, and I expect when forensics come back, that blood's gonna match up to your daddy's. I also suspect the bloody boot prints all over his front porch are gonna match up to the boots we took off your feet last night." Shane licked his dry lips. "I'm gonna make it real clear for ya, Dixon. You swallow the pill, admit what you done, and the jury might go easy on ya. We all know what kinda filth your daddy was, but it don't change nothin'. Murder's murder."

"I didn't kill him," Daryl growled.

"Thought you couldn't remember what you done last night," Shane replied, cocking his head to the side. "You might wanna wait on your attorney. She'll be here soon, and I'm sure she's got her work cut out with you." Shane gave him a little smirk before he pushed back and the metal chair legs screeched along the rough concrete floor. Daryl winced as the sound pained his ears, and Shane moved to the door. "I'll get you some coffee, finish sobering you up. Think you're gonna need a clear head to get through this." With that, Shane and the other officer left, slamming the steel door in their wake. Daryl flinched as the sound of the lock sliding into the frame grated on his every aching nerve.

...

Carol Peletier finished brushing out her auburn locks, covering the dark marks at the sides of her neck. She hadn't been able to wear her hair up for a week now, and makeup would not cover up the discoloration, no matter what she did.

Ed stepped up behind her in the mirror, leaned down and planted a kiss to her cheek, giving her a pat on the side of the face.

"Morning, darlin'," he murmured, as he leaned forward to straighten his tie. "You getting all beautiful for your boyfriend?"

"Don't," Carol bit out. "That isn't funny."

"Aw, honey, you know I'm just teasing," Ed offered, as Carol stood and turned to face him. "Trying to lighten the mood. I'm real sorry 'bout last week."

"I'm sure you are," she said coldly, as Ed brought his hands to her hips and pulled her in close. "Ed…I have to work."

"You and that goddamned job," he muttered. Carol flinched then, moving away from his grasp. "Aw, honey, I ain't mad."

"I have to go. I have to drop Sophia off at your mother's before I go. I'm already late as it is." Ed frowned, and Carol moved to finish dressing. When she sat on the edge of the bed to slip on her heels, Ed moved to stand in front of her, hands on his hips.

"You planning on leaving me again? Takin' my baby with you?"

"I don't know," she bit out, avoiding looking up at his face. Then his hand was at her chin, and he was tiling her face up to his.

"I swear to Christ, baby, I'll never hurt you like that again."

"The only reason I came back was for Sophia," she murmured. "And I'm still not sure I should have come back. But I swear to God, Ed Peletier, if you ever put your hands on me like that again, I'll—."

"Baby, don't talk like that."

"Don't baby me. I'm not the one that cheated and got caught and grabbed you by the back of the neck like an animal to stop you from leaving."

"It was…it's over. She transferred cities, and she's not coming back."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry your girlfriend's gone. Something tells me she's not the only one."

"Carol, come on, now. I love you."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's not enough anymore." With that, she got up and stalked past him, heading down the hall to the nursery, where Sophia was sitting up in her crib clinging to her teddy bear.

"Mama!" the little one cooed when Carol stepped into the room.

"Hi, sweet girl," she said softly. "Are you ready to go to grandma's?" The baby grinned, and Carol pulled her into her arms. "Mama's got to work today, hmm?" Sophia babbled as Carol carried her out into the hall and down the stairs. Ed was waiting by the front door with Sophia's car seat.

"I'll drive into work with you?" he offered.

"I really don't feel like being around you right now," she offered. "I'm willing to go to counseling, but I'm not going to forget. I will never forget, do you understand me?" Ed swallowed hard, and he hung his head.

"I won't ever hurt you like that again, baby. I was drunk, and…"

"Stop," Carol spat coldly. "I don't want to hear it. I just…need to be away from you." She looked up then to meet his gaze, and she sighed heavily. "I don't know what I want anymore, Ed. Last week changed things. You aren't the man I married. I don't know who you are." With that, she grabbed her purse and her keys and headed out the door. The last thing she saw before she pulled out of the drive was Ed staring forlornly out the window by the door.

He's the cheater. He's the one that did this. Don't let him make you feel like the bad guy.

She took a shaky breath and turned the radio on low before heading across town toward Ed's mother's house. And as she drove, she couldn't help but wonder if Nancy Peletier knew exactly what kind of man her son was turning into.

...

Carol's heels clicked on the asphalt as she hurried across the lot toward the big, glass doors out front. She clutched her briefcase firmly in one hand and dropped her car keys into her purse. With a heavy sigh, she mentally went over her goals for the day, though she knew that all of that would have to wait until she got back to her office. Monday mornings were always hell, because the weekends always meant she'd have a whole heap of work on her lap that couldn't wait. It never failed. At least it meant she had a paycheck.

"Morning, Andrea," Carol said with a smile to the pretty blonde behind the counter.

"Oh, good, you're here!" Officer Harrison said with a smile. Andrea was a rookie cop, and Carol respected her deeply for being able to put up with all the shit the guys put her through. She held her own and gave it back to them as good as they gave it to her, and Carol couldn't help but see a kindred spirit in the woman. They both knew what it was like to have to deal with working in a man's world. "They tell you yet?"

"Uh, no. They just told me they've got a guy for me, needs some legal counsel. Probably a DUI or something." Andrea frowned and glanced over toward the conference room doors.

"Walsh and Grimes are waiting. Don't worry. You're gonna be great." Andrea gave her an anxious thumbs up, and Carol felt her heart leap into her throat for a brief second. She took a deep breath and straightened her posture, quickly hurrying toward the conference room as her heels clicked loudly on the marble floor.

Once inside, she swallowed back her anxieties and took a deep breath.

"Deputy Walsh. Sheriff Grimes." She gave them each a professional smile and a nod, and Rick Grimes motioned for her to have a seat.

"Shane? You wanna take a walk?" Rick asked. Shane looked Carol up and down from her heels to her knee-length skirt to the white blouse under her black jacket. She shivered under his gaze, and she felt uneasy under his scrutiny.

"Yeah. I'll head on down to the coroner's office, see if they've got anything yet."

"You do that," Rick said, waving him out. Shane hurried off, and Rick cleared his throat the second the door shut in Walsh's wake.

"We've got a live one of you, Carol," he said quietly. "You remember the Dixons?"

"Uh, I…we…went to school with Daryl, but I haven't seen him in…well, since senior year. Why?"

"Well, he was brought in last night covered in blood, and his daddy was found beaten to death a few hours later. Daryl needs legal counsel, and you're the best damned defense attorney in King County." Carol's mouth fell open slightly, and she felt her heart race in her chest.

"You think Dixon killed his father? And you want me to defend him? Why?"

"You're the best," Rick repeated. "You know your shit, and if anybody can get him off, you can."

"Why? Why would I want to get a murderer out of jail?" Carol asked, narrowing her eyes at the Sheriff. Rick cleared his throat and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

"Because Will Dixon is a rapist and a fucking abuser, and if anybody deserves what he got, it's him. And I know what he did to his boys and why they hated him like they did. I don't care if Daryl killed him or not. I want you to prove he didn't do it. And if you can't, I want you to show the world that a man can only take so much before he reaches his breaking point."

"I'm sorry, Rick," Carol murmured, clearing her throat, breaking her professional address for a moment. "I know you and Daryl were close growing up, but you can't let your personal feelings…"

"You want to talk personal? You know my wife. You know what happened to her." Carol looked down, looked away. "It was him. I know it was him. But we couldn't prove it, and she fucking killed herself because of Will Dixon."

"Rick…I…"

"Lori was your best friend. I know you'd want this for her." Carol felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she cleared her throat, shaking her head.

"I can't take this case. I'm sorry. You have to find someone else." She stood up, and Rick stood with her.

"Just talk to him. Daryl's a good man. I know it. He was my best friend once. I know he wouldn't kill a man in cold blood." Carol swallowed hard, and she shook her head. With a sigh, she relented. Gripping her briefcase tightly in her shaking hand, she let out a slow breath.

"Did Will Dixon have any enemies?" A sigh of relief escaped Rick's lips, and he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Thank you, Carol. Thank you."