A/N:
Hello Walking Dead and/or Caryl fans - Spoilers - Negan Spoilers (forgot the comics aren't over seventy years old and there is no need for the dang alert xP My bad.)
I am new to this fandom (I guess that's my excuse if I get anything wrong) - recently converted if you will (but I still love my Hobbits!). This is my first fic of Daryl/Carol and not at all what I wanted my first story of them to be. :(
So here's what happened:: my friend and I got to talking about the show (I'm the more recent fan and he's been a fan since the beginning and does NOT obsess over it like I do) and we were discussing who Negan would kill since we think Glenn might be in the clear. (He's a fan of the comics too. I haven't read them and I haven't seen any of Season 6). Our talk inspired me to write this...
I wanted to post this before Season 6 finishes just in case :)
As I said, I haven't read the comics so Negan might/will be a little OOC.
Let me know if I got anything drastically wrong :P Anyway, HAPPY READING!
-::- Beth (aka IheartOakenshield193712)
P.S. Beware my weird writing style - it started off as a test and then it just sorta stuck Dx
**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.
Warning: Contains graphic violence, graphic images of major character death, blood, gore, death
His head pulsed terribly - a painful ringing in his ears split what little reality he could see. His lungs were burning with each hollow and shaky breath he took. The bitter air scraped down his raw throat as he breathed - blood spewing from his mouth as he let out ragged coughs.
He had no recollection of what happened in the hours - or days - before. He had no idea where he was - if the others were safe.
A grunt escaped his throat as rough hands grabbed the lapels of his vest and dragged him across the gravel. The sharp rocks scraping along his skin until he came to a stop, the dust kicking up. He choked on dirt and blood.
His chest burned again as he swallowed down the gritty sand. He cracked an eye open - brown and grey clouds of dirt and grime surrounded him. He faintly heared shouts and yells of several men.
Suddenly, a light was directed at his face. He released a groan of pain as the light pierced his eyes, skyrocketing his throbbing headache. He snapped them shut quickly. Through the mess of unbearable pain, someone was shouting at him - something about getting up, opening his eyes...
A foreign and strangled gasp flooded his ears as a steel-toed boot kicked his gut, warm liquid spilling from his open and gaping lips. He spit sloppily and squinted, taking in the scene around him.
Several tall and towering men surrounded him, each looking both amused and angry - none looked familiar. The crowd divided, letting a man through whose smile gleamed almost devilishly and in his hands was a bat wrapped in barbed wire.
"Mr. Dixon, you're finally awake," he boomed, clapping one of his men on the back. "Glad you could join us. You almost missed the show!"
He struggled to sit but fell back against the earth - his ribs splintered and his bones were cracked, the impact forcing the breath from his lungs.
"Oh, don't worry," the burly man continued. "Your friends were able to make it. They've waited for you. Thought you went missing actually. Had no idea you were the main character in our little story. Turns out you were with us all along."
He shifted, turning his body painfully to see those he had come to call his family for the past several years. A lump caught in his raw throat; they were all there, dragged from every corner of Alexandria and placed in the midst of a roaring crowd.
Rick was the first face he saw.
In the eyes of a man who valued his family above all else sat a tremendous amount of utter helplessness as he looked down at Daryl. His head shook slightly and the cold pit in Daryl's stomach tightened. It had dawned on him.
Negan's men had brought them here to see his death.
His eyes shifted to the next face - Glenn. He was badly bruised and bloody as well, most likely having escaped a brutal beating. Maggie was clutching at his side, tears and fear evident in her eyes. Glenn'd be damn lucky if he wasn't next.
Abraham and Sasha and Rosita and Tara and Eugene watched him with mouths in firm lines that wobbled a little and eyes blazing with hatred for the man with the bat.
His next ragged breath tore through his insides the moment he locked eyes with the one person he hoped would never have to see his death.
Carol.
Her face was lined with tear tracks - god knows how long and how much she'd witnessed - her blue eyes broken and her lips trembling; he shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be here.
He sputtered, blood bubbling from his mouth, and saw the life of him flash before his eyes.
Merle. He always followed his brother around like a lost puppy, always listening to the degrading remarks that Merle threw his way, knowing deep down that was just his brother's way of caring about him.
He had gone. Killed by the Governor. Turned. Killed again. Going out with only one thought in his mind: protecting his baby brother - the sweet one. The one who had a better shot in this world gone to hell.
The prison was safe - for the time being - from the Governor and the walkers. He did not object when she finally acted on her feelings for him. He welcomed it - a great change from the death and despair around them.
And he loved her like there was no tomorrow.
They kept their relationship a secret, even from Rick. Michonne and Glenn were the only ones that suspected anything. He had caught the latter grinning at him after being in the watchtower too long with Carol. He had growled gruffly at Glenn, saying he'd clip his ear off if he didn't mind his own goddamn business.
Thirty days without an accident. It was a slight relief though he was afraid to let his guard down - nothing stayed perfect for long in this new world. She had called him "Pookie" then, he'd snorted at her - still trying to be immune to her teasing.
Zach was killed. Beth had taken it surprisingly well, a little too well for Daryl to handle.
He had sought comfort in the arms of Carol that night. It had felt different than their usual nights - the guilt of not being able to save the kid on his mind, like how he had failed to save Sophia. He clung to the one person he knew he would die without and just kept repeating he was tired of losin' people.
Karen and David were murdered - in cold blood as Hershel and Rick put it. The people of Woodbury had grown ill and were dying. Before he left on the medicine run, he had told Carol to stay safe. She didn't reply with her usual "nine lives, remember", and he ignored the fear pitting itself in his gut.
He had returned and she was gone. He couldn't understand how Rick just dumped her aside - with a car and supplies as the man had tried to reason. When did he decide to become their leader again? Without telling the council?
He snarled at the man. "You're sayin' it like ya don't believe it!" He had half a mind to leave the prison and find her - Carol was his girl
The prison fell - the Governor returned to their doorstep with a ragged army. Hershel died and in the chaos, he found himself stuck with Beth.
He vaguely remembered the events after the walkers were let loose from the barn. He barely recalled how Beth mourned over her mother; his mind had been too preoccupied with the terrible reality that he had failed in reuniting Sophia with Carol.
The days that followed, he only held thoughts for Carol - hoping she'd be alright, that she hadn't been anywhere near when the prison went up. He couldn't look at Beth, he couldn't see her walls breaking down - the death of her father destroying her strategy when it came to losing people.
She wanted to drink, erase the memory of him and of his death. She wanted to forget, because that's what people did to forget, right? After they torched the house, they found the funeral home. Inside herself, she was still a little girl who tried to see the good in the world, making him believe that there were still such things as good people.
She had been taken. He had lost yet another child.
The guilt of losing her took over him, and he found himself traveling with a gang of men with a code he didn't understand. They were after some man, said he had killed one of their own. He knew what that was like, wanting to avenge a loved one's death. He minded his own and slept with the images of both Carol and Beth's faces imprinted under his eyelids.
The man had been Rick, and he had defended them, earning the name "brother" from the same man who had pointed a gun to his head three times. He, Michonne, Rick, and Carl set off for Terminus.
He never thought he'd see her again. He never thought he'd get to hold her slim frame against his muscular one. His arms wrapped around her small body so easily, bringing her closer him, their bodies molding together - a perfect fit. One that he had been sure he'd never fuckin' feel again. He looked at her, allowing his head to fall onto her shoulder. He reveled in the feeling of her soft hands against his cheeks, touching his face tenderly.
Rick appeared. He saw it in her face after their reunion - she was unsure of what to do, leave or stay. He wouldn't let her out of his sight, because he wasn't fucking losin' her again. She had fought her own battles but now they were together again - she wouldn't have to go through it alone anymore.
He had caught her by the car. Asked her what she was doin', and she didn't know.
The car with the white cross - the one that took Beth - they followed it into the city.
He had tried to keep her in his sight, even when she suggested taking first watch in the shelter. He knew if he closed his eyes, she'd run - thinking it was best for the group when it would kill him inside. He tried to mend the break in the bond between them, but everything was cut short when she was hit by that car.
They managed a trade for Beth and Carol from Grady. All would've gone well if Beth hadn't-
It had been a blur. The bullet exiting Beth's brain, the bullet he'd put into the cop's head, Carol's hand on his arm. He didn't really remember.
Carol had told him he needed to feel it, to feel Beth's death, to come to terms with his own unspoken guilt of being responsible for another child's death. The pain of her loss passed slowly, and he sought out Carol again, needing her to be close to him because after what they'd been through, losing her would destroy him entirely.
Aaron and Eric and the Alexandria Safe Zone had come. He dared to hope this could be a permanent - as permanent as things got nowadays - settlement for them.
He grimaced at her hideous cover-up, though the pants hugged her ass just right, pulling the "simple housewife" card to the new town. If he thought Glenn's gossip was bad, he had forgotten how fast word traveled in a small community. Everybody and their cousin were talking about the new arrivals and the potential they all had... except for Daryl, the feral animal of the group, the one who was hard to read.
"You're not hard to read, Pookie," Carol said to him behind closed doors.
"Stop," he snorted.
He dared to hope again. He struggled in putting his guard down, knowing that trouble would be on their doorstep once again.
They still kept their rekindled romance under wraps from the group and the rest of Alexandria - both needing to desperately hold onto this while it lasted. Aside from a few skirmishes, it was as good as peace got in the town of Alexandria.
Until Negan and his men showed up.
The big and burly man bounced the bat against his palm as he looked down at Daryl. "Any last words, Mr. Dixon?" he offered.
Daryl swallowed, his eyes still locked with Carol's.
She knew.
He knew she knew. He had told her countless of times during the nights they were together, back at the prison and in Alexandria. She knew.
He just couldn't leave without saying it one last time because now there was no tomorrow for them. "I love you, Carol."
The bat came down on his skull.
He heard her screams and tears through it all, through the terrible and wild howls that left him as Death embraced him.
The sound of his flesh being ripped away and torn apart filled the air. The barbed wire spikes dug into his eyes and nose and lips, pulling a stream of blood up along with fading shouts of pain. The bat struck again, Negan's muscles flexing as he slammed it down, cracking Daryl's skull. He repeated it over and over again, harder and harder until those who stood around - forced to watch - only heard the sound of Negan destroying the one thing that makes us who we are.
Carol collapsed - her screams running her throat raw and numb.
Daryl Dixon was gone.