Pairing: none, it's gen ;)
Wordcount:+7 000
Spoilers: The story takes place immediatly after 3x15 "This sorrofwul life", includes spoiler from the finale promo!
Warning:Character Deaths
Disclaimer: Just borrowing these amazing characters.
Note: I am so absoulty excited for the season finale! I kind of couldn't wait, so I wrote my own version of it. Special thanks to my friend who corrected this story! (Thank you, dear! :3) We are both non-native english speakers, so I hope you don't mind if you should stumble over some mistakes. Enjoy!
He stumbled back through the forest, keeping close to the mainroads, but still keeping his distance. Branches were scratching along his face like chalk on a blackboard as he made his way through the underbush. He didn't even bother to swat them away. They left marks along the way, angry and red.
But right now he didn't even care.
He didn't feel anything. It didn't hurt, didn't raise a single emotion out of him.
He just felt empty. There was something missing inside of him, ripped away as if some stupid walker had already gnawed at him and tore a big hole in his insides.
I just want my brother back.
And wasn't that one big fuck you from the universe, right in his face.
After one year, one goddamn whole year he didn't know whether his brother had made it. He always thought he did. After all, it was Merle. This man was irrepressible. The only thing he had left to hold on to was his brothers hand- cut off; like a signal that he didn't need to reach out for him anymore.
But then he found him. Well, not under the best cirumstances but he had finally found him. He didn't know whether he was relieved when he had, but there he was, side by side, shoulder against shoulder, fighting the nightmares like they always had. Never had done different.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Merle had planned. He immediately knew it as he saw Michonne in the field. Alone and uncuffed, bringing her sword down to the walkers head with one smooth motion. Walkers were swarming the actual meeting point which Rick hadn't planned on going to. They all knew the Governor was fooling them. And so did Merle. He must have drawn the walkers to the wrecked before shooting as many of the sick bastard's men as he possibly could.
In the end Merle chose his side.
But no one was there to see it.
As he stabbed his brother, this thing, he was so full of rage, angry at himself and the world. He wanted to kill that man of a Governor. Slowly and painfully. Thought about running to Woodbury.
But it was reckless. He would most likely drop dead at the first step he took into this town. He couldn't do anything without people anymore, just like he told his brother this morning. So he made his way back to his group, turning his back on his brother and leaving him for good this time.
Brother against brother. Winner goes free.
Funny enough he didn't feel like one.
It was sheer luck that he came back to the prison, this tomb, as the others called their home, just in time. He took the hot-wired car that died along the way, spurting the last part of the distance.
Cars were parked in the yard, the trunks stuffed with the belongings they had gathered over the months.
It was Carl who noticed him approaching, letting him in.
His feet shuffled through the dirt, his crossbow hanging loosely over his shoulder, letting the familiar weight rest there. He noticed the others stopping with whatever they were doing, looking up at him.
Glenn's lips were pressed in a thin line, his expression blank as he was finished cramming another one of their duffle bags in the back of the car. They all took in his form, battered and broken. If they noticed his puffy, red-smeared face, they didn't comment on it.
Then finally someone broke the unspoken tension.
Next to him Carl was shifting from one foot to the other, raking his head to get a better look through the wired frame. His gaze was interested in the trees below; looking, searching. As if he could force with sheer willpower alone for another figure to pop up behind the trees, out of the cover.
"Where is Merle?"
He could feel that all of a sudden all eyes were on him, waiting.
The hunter looked down, there was no need to say anything.
A gasp escaped from the person to his right, Carol's hand moving to her mouth. He heard a grim huff. The others remained silent, stoic even, their expression marginally changing.
For them it was just another man down. They barely even knew him. Merle wasn't family for them. Never was and now definitely never would be.
"You know, we decided to move. Clear the place before the Govenor gets here."
It was obvious, he wasn't stupid and they knew it. But somehow Maggie needed to fill the silence as it was turning uneasy for all of them.
Michonne joined them, loading one of her belongings in the back of the Honday. Her eyes met his, her expression being unreadable. He quickly moved his head to the side.
Unexpected, slim fingers brushed against his leather jacket.
As he looked down, her eyes were glistening with moist. Whether it was actually for Merle, him loosing the only real family member he had left, or the whole situation in general he wasn't sure. But they seemed so hurt, so broken, pitiful even. Understanding.
"I'm so sorry." Carol's hand slowly ran down the side of his arm, leaving a tingling feeling.
He wasn't used to that. Didn't need that crap, didn't want it either, for that matter.
So he did the thing he was best at: he lashed out.
"Save it." he snapped, brushing away from the comforting hand, leaving her dumbstruck and fighting her own demons, striding to the prison doors.
The sooner they got out of this goddamn place the better.
He took two stairs at a time, passing the old crib with Little asskicker on it, now abandoned and replaced with the new, larger cot,making his way to his cell for the last time.
Entering, he found his cell already nearly cleared out aside from the neatly packed duffel bag and his old crossbow, waiting for him at the end of the rack.
Cursing for whoever went through his personal stuff- probably Carol, he grabbed it and - without another glance - left.
On his way back to the stairs, he stopped when he passed Merle's cell.
He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He really meant to leave, not giving it a glance. But his eyes spotted the stuff which was scattered on the floor and the next moment he was hunkered down on the cold concrete, his bag flap falling off his shoulder, gathering his brother's worn-out undershirt, his crumpled pants, anything that fell into his hands, and stuffed it in his bag.
The hunter heard the old man long before he leaned against the door frame, looking down at him. The loud click of metal on metal had given him away at the stairs.
The farmer didn't say anything, just stared ahead. Daryl wondered why the hell people couldn't mind their own damn business and considered asking him to spill out already whatever was eating at him.
But just as he opened his mouth, Hershel cleared his throat.
"He was a good man."
Daryl stopped for a moment, then got up. He stepped over the torn mattress, his back still facing the door.
Huffing, he sat down on the bed, turning over the pillow and reaching for the small paperball that was hidden there, safely tugging it in his backpocket.
Behind him Hershel shifted, re- adjusting the grip on his crouches that scraped along the floor.
"Your brother. Deep down he was."
"What's with ya people?" Daryl barked, angrily stuffing the rest of his brothers belongings in his bag.
He corded it up loosely, slinged it over his shoulder and grabbed his crossbow. "Didn't give a rat's ass about him before. "
He straightened himself, crossed the room and suddenly he was up in the old man's face. So close he could feel the other man's breath on him.
He stared down at him, glaring.
"Ain't a little late now, don't ya think? "
Considering their new situation they were doing remarkably well.
Thanks to his brother, some men of the Governor's army had already been taken down. They had decided to leave this place as fast as possible, making a run for it. Staying was not an option anymore and everyone was aware of that. If they stayed, this was going to be their graveyard.
So they packed up everything they could. Even gathered new stuff they found useful.
They were doing so well.
Until they weren't. And all hell broke loose.
The sling dangled by his side, his bag bumping into his new crossbow at his shoulder.
From the trunk he could see a mop of dark brown hair buried deep inside the front of the car. Maggie glanced up at him, as he lowered the crossbow. " Sorry, this one is full." her voice is muffled. "But there is still place in the other one." The next moment, her head was already buried deep inside the front again, busy storing ammunition in the driver's door.
He was grateful for her not mentioning Merle. Gave him the space he needed. Merle was his blood after all. She understood. She had already lost one of her siblings.
"I'll get Rick, tell him we are nearly packed." With that, Glenn slammed one of the doors shut, trailing off to go to the tower where the ex-sheriff kept guard.
Carl approached with a large bag full of rifles just as the hunter positioned his equipment in the trunk. He looked down and grabbed the heavy duffel from the small kid's hands, stacking it on top of all the other things.
It went downhill from there.
He could hear someone shouting, then the loud crash of a bullet going through a window, leaving him shrinking to the ground, taking Carl with him. Fragments of broken glass were covering his head, some were sliding down the back of his shirt.
"Everybody get down!"
He could hear Rick frantically shouting from the tower, and Carl's loud gasp of surprise. But it was tuned down, muffled by the sudden rain of gunfires. It took a moment for the sudden rush of adrenaline to kick in.
The piercing roar of a motor followed, a Ford crossing the barrier of chain-link fence like it was nothing. The trunk was yanked open, dead men staggering out of it, making the way to their group.
He got up from his crouching position and fired an arrow at one approaching walker, ducking down again as a shot missed his head by an inch. Both of the kid's hands made it to his ears, shielding them from agonizing sounds of the gunfire. The boy turned, fired a few bullets then ducked again.
Bullets were hitting metal, scratching along the material in an awful, awful sound that left their ears ringing.
"Get under the car." Daryl said through clenched teeth.
They could have handled the shooters or the walkers, alright - one at a time. But with both closing in on them they lost the handle on the situation.
Over the moans and the shooting he heard a body going down by the other side of the car.
Fuck.
He didn't turn, didn't look.
Just in time he stepped to his right, thus escaping the clawing hands coming from the side but bumping right into the second walker that stepped up right next to him.
With a shove, one of the unliving was pushed away. Providing him seconds to handle one of them successively. He gripped the collar of the former businessman, driving the end of his knife right home in its forehead with full force. With a kick backwards, Daryl brought down the other one, which tumbled to the ground, crashing its skull with the end of his crossbow.
He got on his knees, crouching behind the front door as bullets continued to rain down on them.
From this position he could see Maggie laying motionless on the pavement.
Leaning back against the metal door, he brought his crossbow down, aiming the leading edge to his toes and slipping one of his feet in the stirrup. Pulling the bow-string back effortlessly, he snatched a new perfect bolt from his back, sliding it onto the deck and pushing it backwards.
With a small click it snatched in place.
Cursing, he crocked his head back and briefly closed his eyes.
Shifting, he got to the edge, snatching a quick peek around his hiding-spot, trying to locate the shooter.
Just seconds later, the arrow found its way into the man's neck, hitting dead on.
Next moment he could make out shuffles of quick, faltering steps of boots, then a slim figure took shelter behind the trunk, dark, long dreadlocks falling in her face. She looked at him, gave him a quick nodd and that was all he needed. With his back covered, he pushed away.
He reached Maggie's side crawling, his hands immediately grazing over the thick, dark vest she was wearing.
Two. No, three bullets were stuck.
He noticed something was very wrong when his hands got wet anyways.
There was an explosion, the force brought him down to the figure below, sharp edges biting in his skin as he braced his weight with his hands.
What the -
Looking back, he took a moment to process what his eyes were seeing. Something hit the guard tower. It was up in flames. Burning.
Rick. Glenn.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, pushed the fear down. His fingers were working on the straps of the vest, roughly pushing it aside.
Unfocused, blurry eyes were staring back at him, tracking his movements sluggishly.
Her hand touched his chest as he was leaning over her closely, his body shielding her from further harm. He worked on her vest, pulling it away from the gunshot to get a better look at it. She pushed weakly at first then with more determination, the message clear.
Instead his hand found hers, entangling in her slippery ones, the blood almost making him loose and adjust his grip twice. Guiding their arms to the lower part of her side, he pressed both of their palms on the gaping wound, hard; forcing a low moan out of her lips.
"No can do.", his voice hissed. "Ain't leaving ya. "
One hand found its way to her neck while the other snaked under the hollow of her knees. "C'mon, girl."
They needed to get out of here. Now.
Standing, he swayed, adjusting his grip and hosting her up, as the additional weight was too much all of the sudden. Carl was shouting, bullets were fired from both sides, leaving him to haunch over.
Hot, shallow puffs of air were grazing his neck. The feeling of warm blood soaking his vest and his jacket, sticking to his sweat-soaked skin left a gut-wrenching feeling inside of him.
It were just a few meters separating the both of them from the prison entrance, but it might have been kilometers just as well. A walker crossed their path, with his hands full, all he could do was to shove it away.
It spun, was back on them in an instant.
It was hard and slow-going, but they made it inside just fine.
She was hanging limply in his arm; one arm was awkwardly trapped between their upper bodies, the other arm dropped by his side, bumping into his knee as he started to run up the stairs as fast as he could.
He staggered, hands gripping her tightly as the farmer's daughter threatened to slip from his grasps.
"Alright, alright, here we go..."
It was not until he lowered her down that he noticed her blank eyes staring into nothing, her breath long gone.
He was gentle when he pressed his hand over her empty eyes, letting it rest there for a brief moment. He could feel some dampness where a single tear had made its way down her cheek, stopping halfway in its tracks because it had nothing to go on anymore.
Soft, feathery-like lashes brushed against his fingers, as he guided his hand down towards her chin.
His jaw was clenched, his lips forming a grim line when he got up again.
One of his precious bullets ripped through the air, hollow and broken.
Gun fire lit the yard, looking like bright sparks as darkness fell.
It was pure chaos.
They were nearly out of ammunition, arrows, people, his people, fucking everything.
He was inside the prison now, cut off from the rest of them as walkers blocked the way out, too many to take out on his own.
He backed up, didn't see anyone, there was just the smell of dead coming closer to him. Then he saw her, would have mistaken her for a walker but the familiar mop of blond hair was illuminated by the moonlight that shone through the windows. The low shushing noises she made gave her away.
Within three strikes he stood in front of the cell she had locked herself into. But the iron bars would only hold the dead away, not living people.
She looked up in complete surprise, her face pale and oddly calm.
Then she stormed to him, clutching the iron bars, the bundle on her was squirming,
It all come out in one hysterical rush.
"We are okay, We are- I just made it over here. Where is everyone? Oh my God, are they alright? There was an explosion and...Oh god, Maggie? Dad? Have you seen them? Where is everyone?"
There was no time for chit-chatting, though. If they didn't leave now, they never would.
"We need to leave." It's all he say s as he opened the cell door.
She had come out, already reached his side when she spinned on her heels again.
"The duffel- I forgot the duffel."
She was back at his side seconds later, the duffel hanging from her back.
"C'mon, move."
He turned, took a few steps in the opposite direction. She was still standing there, staring at the approaching outstretched hands.
"Goddamnit, Beth, move."
Leaning backwards he caught her wrist and pulling her along with him.
His grip was too tight, it actually hurt, but right now she didn't care.
Her long legs had a hard time adjusting, nearly stumbling in the haste to match with his fast, determined strikes.
They went further in the prison, falling back.
"What the fuck," Daryl panted, suddenly stopping. If it weren't for his grip on her wrist she would have stumbled right into him.
The beam of light outlined the broken features of the once functioning safety barrier.
Someone had cut the chains with a fucking bold cutter. The fences he helped Glenn to position with in order to keep out the walkers.
Realization struck him like a slap in the face.
Not only were they trapped, they were fucking played with.
Someone knew that there was another way inside the prison. But his group kept watch from the guard tower all the time. And there had never been a single human - well as if there were many left to begin with - caught spying or getting even close enough to have a look . Still, someone knew.
The groundplan of the prison. Knowing that there was another way in.
The Governor was one crazy fuck.
It had been planned all along. Walkers were supposed to swarm the back of the prison, blocking their route to freedom, their escape route, leaving them with only one option: Out into the yard at the front, right into the lines of fire in the arms of their enemies.
This, this was nothing but goddamn slaughter. He never left them a chance to win, never planned it in the first place.
They were so screwed.
Someone must have done it recently when they were defending the prison, their family, in the yard. When they were distracted. The fences were there to keep out walkers. No one would have anticipated someone getting there andopeningit.
Just as Daryl turned around with Beth in tow to make the way to another block, a fist landed it his face. Stabbing pain blurred his vision. With a sickening crunch his right hand was twisted, hard, the flashlight crashing uselessly to the ground. He could have sworn he heard a bone snap. And, oh yes, he definitely felt it, too.
With a violent tug, his other hand was yanked from the kid's arm.
A high pitched scream escaped her lungs, ringing in his ears. He would give her shit for drawing attention to them later, but right now he wasn't actually sure if there was any reason left in even trying.
Pain flared back in his nose. He couldn't see anything. He blinked rapidly against the sudden darkness, trying to get a grip of the situation. Someone held him by his collar, so much he knew. He had hardly any chance to block the upcoming blow- really how should he? He literally didn't see it coming. It stung.
He heard muffled cries from the little bundle tucked safely somewhere in the makeshift baby sling, knowing Beth was still close.
He was trying to reach for his in his knife, but a sudden blow to his trample stopped his action, leaving him dazed and dizzy.
With the grip on his collar gone, his body slumped to the ground. His head hurt, he could barely hear over the sound of his blood rushing, pulsing in his brain like a jackhammer. Yet, he could still make out the high, distressed voice of his companion.
Too bad the man got to the wrong one. Because you don't get to mess with a Dixon, ever.
(Red-edit the story and split into 2 parts now (: )
Thank you for reading! Have fun watching the finale. We probably gonna need tissues.