A/N: So basically a what-if fic…
Cherry Waterfall
Daryl stood confidently in the center of the circle of people, staring at Joe cautiously but boldly, his crossbow loose in his grip.
"You want blood, I get it…" he said, his voice strong and unwavering. He took a step before dropping the bow to the ground, the leaves crunching underneath it. "Take it from me, man…" he said, raising his arms up and out, welcoming himself to get attacked by Joe and his men.
Joe glared at him, unsatisfied.
"Come on…" Daryl provoked. Joe cocked his head to the side, his eyes wide with insanity. Then, without warning, he raised the gun, pulling the trigger. The loud blast from the gun made the three not in Joe's group gasp and leap from their skins.
"Why not," Joe shrugged and smiled sadistically, watching as Daryl's body flew back from the impact. Rick jumped forward, but Joe grabbed his collar.
"Ah-ah, you ain't goin' anywhere." the older man said. Rick stared at Daryl, pleading silently that the shot missed anything vital. No…he was begging the shot to be non-fatal. Eventually, Daryl shifted, his long bony fingers twitching as his head rose up slightly, staring at Rick for a split moment, before falling back against the ground. The small movement wore him out.
He cringed, feeling the blood gush out of the gunshot wound in his shoulder, just under his collarbone on the right. He moved his hand to cover it, to stop the blood flow, but someone's heavy boot slammed down on his wrist. Daryl coughed, tasting a coppery tang in his mouth.
"That's enough!" Rick ordered, throwing his head back. Joe's gun fired once more, and a painful ringing tore its way through Rick's skull. However, he ignored it, raising himself off the ground, grabbing the gun from Joe's hands and shooting him twice in the chest.
Four or less rounds left in that gun.
The man standing on Daryl's wrist, Harley, ran forward, only to be shot in the head by Michonne. The other man who held her at gunpoint, Tony, held his bleeding nose. Michonne effortlessly shot him in the chest as the other two men began to flee, only to be gunned down by her.
Rick scurried over to Daryl, who still lay flat on his back, his arms splayed on the ground. His eyes trailed up to Rick, and the ex-cop could tell he was barely awake. "Hey, stay awake. You did good, Daryl. Stay awake." Rick said, staring at the injury. "You'll be okay." he continued. Daryl laughed, but it ended up as a harsh coughing fit, ripping his throat raw as he continued to spit blood.
"I'm fine…" Daryl whispered lazily, his eyes closed.
Rick nodded as Daryl slipped into unconsciousness. He swiftly slid his arms under Daryl's shoulders and knees, lifting him up and towards the car.
Daryl blinked away a cloud of haze, licking his lips only slightly, before biting them nervously. He could feel the soft bandage around his chest, wondering where they had gotten it. Rick was sitting next to him in the back of the car, holding a drink in his hand. From the cloudy outline, it looked like a soda can to Daryl.
"What's that?" he asked. Rick looked down at it, then to Daryl. "It's a Cherry Waterfall. Not really sure…still full though. You want it?"
Daryl sighed. "Never really liked those things." He slowly sat up, Rick forcing himself to watch as the archer of the group pushed himself into a sitting position painfully. He held out his hand, and Rick passed the soda over.
"Damn, I hate these things…" he said quietly, before cracking it open and bringing the sugary drink to his lips.
A/N: Just a random Oneshot. Whatever…