Two days the Vatos held them hostage. Two days they waited for rescue that Glenn was so damn sure would be coming. That he still had the luxury of being optimistic would have been laughable to Daryl if he wasn't the one tied up the whole time. They let the kid walk around and kept him trussed up like a Christmas ham.
Glenn tried to be a friend. Came in and spent a few hours here and there with him, telling him about who the Vatos were and all the people they were trying to help. Daryl fought his bonds the first day, but by the second he was drained and actually managed to make decent conversation with the kid. Laughed at a couple jokes Glenn made. Half-hoped he was right about Rick coming back to get them the same as he'd volunteered to come for Merle.
The morning of the third day killed that hope pretty damn cleanly. The kid that had been left behind, the one that distracted Daryl and gave the others time to grab Glenn and then him, his body was found wandering a couple blocks from the intersection. In that same alley. The bottom left half of his body was all chewed up and it was a good bet he'd died before Rick or T-Dog could get any info out of him. At that point all anyone could do was assume the two had taken the guns and run.
So Glenn and Daryl were let go, given a couple gallons of gas for a car if they could find a working one. Their weapons returned. Some water and a few snack bars for the trip. Apologies, too. And an invitation to return if they wanted.
Glenn was the one that thanked them and promised to talk to their people about sharing the guns. Maybe even come back and join up. The quarry had a good lake. Fresh water that was safe if it was boiled. And good hunting out there some days. He was optimistic about setting it up as a run site for those in the city.
He was always so damn optimistic.
So much that Daryl actually held a little hope that he was right. That they'd get back and everyone would be so relieved. They could tell them the kidnapping was all a misunderstanding. They could move to the safety of the Vatos' compound. Maybe have some real beds again. They hadn't found Merle, but if they were in the city they'd have an easier time looking. He couldn't have gotten far with a missing hand, no matter how tough he was. He'd have to hole up somewhere.
Daryl shouldn't have let Glenn get him worked up like that. Because when they pulled into the camp, there was only enough left to tell them there wasn't anything worth taking. Not really. Merle's bike was still there. His own truck. Both his and Glenn's gear set up with their tents. But the camp was deserted.
Instead of the RV they were greeted by a pile of burned walkers and that stripped down car Glenn had mourned the loss of the day they left.
"This is your fault," Daryl growled out, quiet at first. But practically yelling the second time around. "This is all your fault; you hear me?"
"'They'll come for us!'" he mocked, making his voice high-pitched and as overly 'innocent' as he could. "'Rick went back for Merle! He'll come back for us too!'"
Daryl kicked the ground and turned on his heel, stomping over to his truck to check the damage there. He wasn't exactly surprised to find it's tank sitting at empty. They'd probably siphoned what they could. At least they left his shit.
"Fuckin' vultures," he muttered and made his way over to Merle's bike to take a look at that. Glenn was still standing there, staring at the camp with disbelieving eyes. Not something Daryl needed to deal with at the moment. So he waved his hand at the red car and shouted, "Hey! Shortround! Move your ass and check the note they left!"
That seemed to snap Glenn out of it and the kid shuffled over to do that. Daryl watched him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the plastic bag off the car and took the small pile of papers out of it.
"They're heading to the CDC," he called back, still looking distracted. At least he was moving.
"They say where it is?" Daryl asked, attention going to the bike now that Glenn had been dealt with. He didn't wait for an answer as he tapped the gas tank, a little surprised at what he saw, and went on talking, "From the looks of it they got hit by walkers. Same day we got grabbed probably. Or day after. Didn't really have a choice to move whoever was left after. Bettin' that's why they didn't come lookin'."
He was half saying it for Glenn's benefit and half for his own. Saving whatever was left of the group's collective asses was the smart play when they didn't have much to go on to look for him and Glenn. The idea didn't completely mollify him, but he felt a little better knowing they hadn't been outright left behind.
"They filled the tank on the bike," he continued after a moment, lips twisting into something resembling a smile as he teased Glenn, "What made them think I'm letting your ass on it, I ain't got no clue."
Glenn didn't smile back, though. His mouth tightened and he gulped a little before walking over and holding the packet out for Daryl to have a look at, "Probably because they didn't mean to leave it for us? This wasn't, from the look of it."
Daryl frowned and grabbed the packet and in the next moment he was up and pacing. The note was to someone named Morgan. Who the fuck was Morgan? He flipped through the packet, the map, the extra paper, back to the note. Their names weren't anywhere on it. Just this Morgan chick.
But that didn't fit at all. Rick... Rick was better than Shane. Wasn't he? Man seemed like he had some honor to him. A sense of responsibility for his actions, leastways. He wouldn't just leave their shit there for someone else to take, right? He'd gone back for Merle. He-
He'd left them.
He'd fucking left them, the same as he left Merle.
Daryl slapped the papers into Glenn's chest, doing his best to keep his anger in check and not take it out on the kid. "Get your shit. We're gonna get my gun back."
"Your gun?" Glenn looked up from his hands as he fingered the papers nervously.
Daryl nodded, chewed on his thumb for a second and gestured at his brother's bike, "Merle's gun is gone. I 'spect they went through all our shit for any weapons they could. Water an' food, too. Most likely. If they took his, they took mine. I want it back."
Glenn nodded mutely and turned around, started across the camp to his tent and whatever the group had left of it. When he got back about ten minutes later, Daryl already had his things ready to pack up. They didn't have a lot of space on the bike. Most of the essentials would have to be kept in the saddlebags and on their persons. He'd rigged a holder for his crossbow at the very back easily enough. But all the extra shit – the stuff they could dump if they needed to but was still nice to have – would need to go in Glenn's big ass backpack.
Daryl didn't ask before he was tugging the thing off Glenn's shoulder so he could go through it. And Glenn didn't question his actions. He watched quietly as Daryl unpacked everything and re-packed with the important things going into Ziplocs that then went into the saddlebags. As Daryl handed him his bag back, he finally spoke, "So... when we get your gun back... What then?"
"What do mean what then?" Daryl snorted, squinting at the man and pulling on his brother's spare vest. He checked himself for his knives before pulling one out of his boot and offering it for Glenn to take. It'd be easier to carry than that bat of his. Better in close quarters, too. "We point it in their faces and ask them what the hell they were thinkin' leaving us like that. That's what."
Glenn took the knife, hooked it to his belt, "And when we get guns pointed back at us in reply? I really don't want 'death, cowboy style' being part of the plan. I'd rather not die today. Or any day."
"Figure that out when we get there, I suppose," Daryl offered with a half-hearted shrug before swinging his leg over the back of the bike. "You ever ridden before?"
"Yeah. Sort of," Glenn said as he climbed on behind him.
"Sort of?" he raised an eyebrow and turned to look over his shoulder. A moment later he reached back and snapped that stupid hat off Glenn's head. He didn't need it scraping the back of his head or digging into his neck while they rode. He ignored the soft 'hey!' of protest as he rolled it up and shoved it into the front of his pants. Was easier than trying to find a pocket to shove it in and still sit comfortable.
Glenn settled his hands on Daryl's belt, holding it loosely like he really had done this before, "I've ridden scooters and mopeds before. Sometimes I doubled up."
"Ridin' bitch is ridin' bitch," Daryl agreed with a grin thrown over his shoulder, earning him a dry 'ha ha' before he started the engine and they pulled out of camp. The note for Morgan was left where it had been. A little more crumpled and without a map, but they figured as breadcrumbs went, it would do.
…
Joking aside, Daryl was more used to riding bitch than he was having someone ride it with him. He'd spent more time on the back of Merle's bike than he'd ever spent in control of one. Sure, he'd learned to ride. Merle had seen to that. But it didn't mean he was exactly used to it. Merle was part of the gang.
The truck was more Daryl's thing.
But as far as gas mileage and maneuverability went, the bike had the advantage. 200 miles to the gallon on a three-gallon tank. Meant they could get around the city and out the hundred mile trip a lot faster than a bunch of cars and an RV. Also meant they had an easier time turning around and back-tracking when too many walkers crowded the roads and Daryl didn't feel like risking a run through them.
What would have been a two-hour drive (at most) before everything fell apart became a four hour one that ended with them arriving at the CDC just as the sun was crossing the horizon.
Luck was sort-of with them because the others from the quarry were there. They were running between their cars and the open doors, grabbing supplies and firing away at the walkers starting to crowd in on them, drawn by the noise. Daryl didn't bother stopping when he saw those open doors.
He told Glenn to hang on tight and hit the gas, tearing their way through the bodies laid out on the lawn and forcing the group to dive out of the way before crowding inside the doors behind them. When they were inside, Daryl spun them to a stop near the far wall and cut the engine. He leaned back, one hand on the handle bars and the other to his mouth. Watching the group as they gathered inside and the doors shut. He could feel Glenn breathing heavily against his back. The kid's fingers were still hooked around his belt and for the moment he was fine with them staying there.
The stare down they were just starting to have was interrupted by the sound of a gun being cocked. All heads turned toward it and they were introduced to Doctor Jenner.
…
Dinner was happy affair for most of the group. But as Shane became a killjoy and Glenn called him on it in that soft voice of his, Daryl got up and grabbed four bottles of wine and the whiskey.
He held them aloft, "These here? These are ours." He pointed haphazardly between him and Glenn. "We're gonna go find a place to lay our asses down and get shitfaced drunk."
A chorus of protests, the group smiling and inviting the two of them to stay and talk was ignored. But Glenn was laughing even as he was getting up and following, taking one of the bottles for himself. So no one really noticed that Daryl was serious. And then Jenner was standing up and saying he could show them some places to lay down. Even take some hot showers. The good feelings and buzzed atmosphere continued into the guest offices.
Daryl claimed a room for himself and dragged Glenn inside by the shoulders. Glenn grinned at him, taking a long drink from the wine he'd snagged, "Hot showers."
"Yeah, I heard," Daryl snickered, his hand finding its way to the back of Glenn's neck so he could hold onto him for a second. "Race you to it."
And then Daryl pushed Glenn down and to the side, earning him a loud laugh from the kid as he darted for the attached bath. He had just managed to get inside when Glenn snagged his shirt and pulled him backwards. It threw him off for a few seconds. Enough that Glenn was able to get himself inside the shower stall and shout triumphantly, completely unaware of the sudden panic that had flashed through Daryl. He'd forgotten how quick Glenn was and that the easiest thing to grab would be his shirt. He'd let his guard down.
It took him a minute to get himself back to where he needed to be. By then Glenn had the stall closed and his clothes were being tossed over the side. Daryl didn't have to worry about the kid seeing him out of sorts. He had time to compose himself.
He decided he didn't need a shower after all and when Glenn got out and joined him on the couch, Daryl was already three sheets to the wind and feeling fine. They fell asleep on top of each other mostly by accident. Daryl was hogging the last of the alcohol they'd claimed and Glenn was trying to grab it, climbing over him because it was too difficult to stand. At some point during that they both passed out.
…
Morning came and with it Jenner's explanation of the virus. Daryl left to get shitfaced drunk (again) and Glenn stayed with the others in the group because he didn't feel like making himself that sick again so soon. They quickly escalated into a panic because Jenner was dead set (emphasis on 'dead') on letting all of them blow the hell up.
The worst of it all for Daryl, though, was when the doors were finally open and they had all of twenty minutes to get their shit and get their asses out of there.
"Go on," Jacqui said to T-Dog as he pulled up short because she did. She let go of his hand, "Go on. You don't have much time."
Rick and Shane, they looked at her, hung their heads, and ran. Lori, too. Carol was already long gone with Sophia. Dale and Andrea were staring. Daryl was, too.
Daryl shared a look with Glenn, then shook his head, "Nah uh. You ain't stayin'."
"I know what I'm doing," she replied, expression serene. "I want to opt out."
"You don't get to do that," Daryl shouted at her, surprising himself with the vehemence of those words. He turned to Glenn, "Get our shit and get the bike started."
Glenn rushed off and Daryl stomped his way down the metal plank, he pushed on T-Dog's shoulder to get him moving. Jacqui protested, she protested loudly, but Daryl didn't listen.
"No," he shook his head, closing into her personal space. "You don't get to give the hell up. You're better than that. You're better than that prick over there with nothing left to live for. You got people that care 'bout you! You're just gonna leave them?"
"It's my choice!" She choked out, nearly in tears.
Daryl wasn't going to have that, though. He wasn't going to let Rick just leave someone. Not again. "No," he said and bent down to throw his shoulder into her stomach. He got her up over his shoulder and she didn't fight him as he looped his arm securely around her legs and started to run. He didn't see Andrea go sit down or Dale follow her. He didn't know he had someone else that needed saving.
Jacqui cried against his back, was dead weight for a while. But after they were in the elevator she heaved a great big sigh, "Put me down."
"You gonna run back down there?" he asked, still holding her firmly.
He could feel her move, probably shaking her head, "No. No, I won't. I'll come with you."
Daryl hesitated for a moment. Only a moment. Then he set her down and the doors opened to the chaos of everyone already up there trying to get the windows to break. Glenn was on the bike, his backpack on and Jacqui's things bungie-corded to the back over Daryl's crossbow.
"Get on the bike," Daryl told her pushing her forward lightly as he hefted the ax he was still holding. "Hold on to Glenn by the waist and lean against his back. Stick with him and to him until he tells you to get off."
She nodded and hurried to do so. Glenn threw him a questioning look and Daryl started running for the window, "Once it's open you ride the two of you out of here."
Glenn's eyes went wide, but he didn't protest. Just gave a single, firm, nod and revved the engine.
The ax didn't do anything to the window. The gun fired into it didn't either. But then Carol produced a grenade from somewhere and Daryl barely had time to duck around the corner before the glass shattered. Glenn didn't hesitate. As soon as the explosion happened he was gunning the bike up the stairs. All the way to the top before he turned around and set it to jump the rail on its way back down.
"Rode a moped or two, my ass," Daryl muttered to himself as he and the others followed after in a dead run across the lawn. He had two axes by then and there were a more than a few walkers who lost their heads as he cleared the path for those who were slower on their feet. Glenn pulled the bike around behind the RV and Daryl ended up climbing into the thing with Rick and his family. Mostly people piled into whatever was easiest to get inside. T-Dog went for his van. Shane for his Jeep. Carol and Sophia for the Grimes' car.
Glenn was near the kitchen window, the one that overlooked the table. Daryl crowded into the seat there and tapped it, getting the other man's attention. Both he and Jacqui looked up. There were smiles of relief from both of them and he gave them a genuine one in return. The relief was short lived as he heard Rick muttering from the front.
Muttering that was followed up by Lori with a panicked, "They have to make it."
"Who?" Daryl snapped, climbing out of his seat to look out the front, back at the building.
"Andrea and Dale," Lori answered, her hands gripping her son tightly. "They weren't behind us. I didn't see them come out."
Daryl licked his lips, heart beating too heavily in his chest, "They were behind us. Me an' Glenn and Jacqui."
"Jacqui got out?" Rick asked, both surprised and relieved, his eyes wide as he blinked up at Daryl.
Daryl snorted and kept his attention on the building, "No thanks to you."
At least he and Lori both had the sense to feel ashamed of themselves before Carl straightened up and pointed, "There they are!"
Daryl was at the door of the RV half a second later, screaming his head off, "RUN! GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE!"
The two barely made it behind a sandbag barrier before everyone was having to duck down, the explosion rocking the vehicles.
…
They spent that night in what was left of the Vatos' home. It had only been a day, just one night, but the whole group was dead. Slaughtered by other survivors. Straight out executed in their own beds. Even the old folks who couldn't fight back. Who there wasn't any reason to hurt because they wouldn't have been able to fight back. A bunch of sick fucks did that.
Glenn took forever to fall asleep. So did Daryl. The two curled up against each other in the corner of the room the group had picked. Both of them quiet. Both of them facing the others as if they had only each other to face the world with. Daryl was starting to feel they just might.
None of them had really talked about being left behind yet. Not even an apology for it. No mention of how the note they'd found had been for someone else and the assumption that Merle's bike was the group's to give away as they saw fit. Daryl was used to feeling like an outsider, so he wasn't that surprised they'd been so casual with his shit. But Glenn wasn't. He'd been a friend to them. Someone they relied on. And they'd left him out in the cold as much as they had Daryl.
When most of the group was asleep, Daryl nudged Glenn to get his attention. The kid turned his head from where it lay on his shoulder and looked at him with bleary eyes. He was at that point where he was so tired he desperately needed to let his body shut but his head was too busy and riled up to let him. Daryl knew it because he was, too.
He tilted his head toward the door, trying to tell Glenn he wanted them to both get up and leave for a bit. It took Glenn a few minutes of looking confused before he finally got it. He stood up, using Daryl as leverage, and stretched before holding his hand out to help Daryl up. He didn't really need to, but he was tired too, and Glenn was offering. So he did.
They got a questioning look from Shane as the man stirred awake for a second. Daryl made an exaggerated hand motion as he mouthed 'gotta pee' that had Shane waving them off before he made himself comfortable and promptly fell asleep. Daryl did the same when T-Dog gave them the same look from where he sat on look out at the top of the stairs. And Daryl got the same response as he led Glenn down the hall to where they'd found a not-so-working toilet earlier.
When they were inside, Glenn went and sat down on the floor, yawning. He took a moment to try and clear the sleep from his eyes, then asked, "What's up?"
Daryl shrugged, joining him and leaning his shoulder against the kid's, "Think we should leave."
That got him a few slow blinks and scrunched eyebrows, "Right now?"
"Naw," he yawned right before cracking his neck and stretching his arms in front of him, "Thinking after we see them to Fort Benning."
"What if Fort Benning's a bust?" Glenn asked, once more leaning his head against Daryl's shoulder and taking a deep breath that turned into a yawn of his own.
"Then it's a bust and they're on their own," Daryl answered, his thumb finding its way to his mouth as it usually did. "We don't owe them anything."
Glenn shifted, lifted his nearest hand to put it on the one Daryl had in his teeth. Pulled it away. Wove his fingers between Daryl's. Daryl let him. He would later blame it on how tired he was.
"What about Jacqui?" Glenn's words came five or ten minutes later, after he'd let himself think about it.
Daryl could only sigh, "Only two people fit on the bike."
"They were going to let her stay," Glenn said, voice even. He wasn't judging Daryl for his words. He sounded like he was trying to puzzle it out.
"They were going to leave her," Daryl corrected, chewing on the thumb of his other hand. "But we can only fit two people on the bike."
Glenn nodded, his cheek rubbing against Daryl's shoulder in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant for the man, "We could find a car. Something with a trailer hitch to haul the bike."
Daryl's thumb, the other one, slipped across the side of Glenn's hand as he unconsciously worried it, "What? You don't wanna play Evel Knievel anymore?"
He was rewarded with a laugh and Glenn curling into himself from the effort to keep it quiet.
"What the hell was that anyway?" He asked, joining in the laughter with a grin of his own and a soft chuckle.
"I used to steal cars," Glenn leaned his head back to meet his eyes, keeping his cheek on Daryl's shoulder the whole time. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I might have stolen a motorcycle or two while I was at it."
Daryl stared at him, at that cheeky little grin on the kid's face, and could only meet it with a snort, "Thought you delivered pizzas."
"I did," Glenn said, letting his head fall back down. "For the last year or so I delivered pizzas. In Macon. Before that, though, I was in college and had a lot of debt and couldn't hold down a job that would pay for both my bills and my school. A friend of mine hooked me up with this small time chop shop. They paid good money for economy cars. Cars that had a good shelf life, but parts were getting harder to get a hold of because they weren't in production anymore. I learned to get around Atlanta pretty fast that way. Learned to stay out of sight, too. It's pretty much why I'm as good at runs as I am."
"So why'd you stop?" Daryl asked, feeling suddenly curious about the kid and this side of him. The sneaky, not-so-goody-goody side.
Glenn sighed and let go of Daryl's hand to push himself up so he wasn't slumping anymore. Daryl felt something he didn't want to put thought to when his fingers were left suddenly very cold. Instead, he moved it back into his lap.
"I almost got arrested one too many times," Glenn answered, resting his head back against the wall as he stared off into the distance. Like he was seeing the past play out in his mind. "That wasn't the first time I've had to ride a bike upstairs. Except then it was to lose the cops trying to tackle me, not get my ass out of the fire."
"Bet you looked like your ass was on fire when you did it," Daryl grinned over at him, looking him in the eyes briefly before they both looked away. Glenn back to his memories and Daryl to his hands.
Glenn's head nodded slowly, "Yeah... a few months after that I dropped out of school and moved to Macon. I was trying to start my life over. I only came back to Atlanta after things went down because I still had friends there I wanted to look in on. I left a group in Macon when I came."
"Were they safe when you left?" Daryl asked cautiously, quietly.
"Yeah," Glenn answered and there wasn't any guilt in his voice, so Daryl figured he was sure of them. "They'd found a motel that was in decent shape. One with walls around the parking lot. They were talking about making a barrier across the entrance to fortify it while they waited for the government to come."
"Government's not coming, though."
"I know."
Daryl couldn't take the silence that fell after that for some reason and nudged Glenn's shoulder, "We could go check in on 'em. See if they're still there."
Glenn smiled, finally looking sleepy enough to pass out, and leaned his head back against Daryl's shoulder, "After we get to Fort Benning."
"Sure. After Fort Benning."