Daryl
He still almost couldn't believe that they had made it out of Terminus, and without casualties, no less. The ginger, Abraham, had a bullet graze on his left shoulder that was an inconvenience but not a danger, and Maggie had twisted her ankle jumping out of the boxcar just as all hell had broken loose, but that was about it.
Of course they hadn't taken out the settlement's entire population during their escape but had only killed or incapacitated the guards immediately around them who'd been trying to stop them from getting away. Therefore, it was very likely that they were going to be tracked as soon as the defenses that they'd taken down in their escape had been set up again and the survivors had taken care of their dead. At this last thought, Daryl shuddered, remembering what he'd glimpsed out of the corner of his eyes going in. Thankfully, it had been too dark to make out any details of their surroundings on the way out. Once had been enough.
During their escape, Rick had seen a smirk spread across Daryl's face despite the bullets hitting the asphalt all around them, mainly in an attempt to herd them back into their boxcar without killing them. Surprised, he'd followed the hunter's line of sight with his eyes and had spotted a brawny man wearing a baseball cap hefting Daryl's crossbow atop the roof of the building just opposite boxcar A.
As soon as Abraham had taken the guy out with the gun he'd wrested from the guard they'd overwhelmed when he had tried to hand in their food, Daryl had climbed the rusty fire ladder and had relieved the dead man of his weapon and quiver. The latter still held the bolts he had cut and fletched himself at the prison. Sadly, his brightly patterned poncho was nowhere in sight, and even if any of their assailants had been wearing it, it had probably been too dark to make it out in all the confusion.
Once they'd put a safe distance between Terminus and themselves, Glenn started moaning about losing the pocketwatch that Hershel had presented him with as a token of his acceptance of Glenn courting Maggie. While he would have scoffed disdainfully at this not so long ago, Daryl was now able to grasp the meaning this gift held to both Glenn and his wife, especially in view of losing Hershel so tragically just days ago.
Probably to distract herself from Glenn's whining, Maggie finally fell into step with Daryl who tensed up immediately, knowing what she was going to ask. And of course he was right. Slowing down slightly to increase their distance to Rick, Michonne and Carl who, it seemed, had found their perfect pace as a group unto themselves, but still far enough ahead of Glenn who was now complaining about the stuff that had been taken from them to Sasha and Bob as well as Abraham and his lot, she looked at Daryl expectantly.
He felt her scrutinizing gaze, of course, and it did nothing to relax him. "What?" he barked aggressively when she had been staring at him for a full two minutes without saying a word.
"Beth?" she asked. "Rick said you got out with Beth? That you were together for a few days?" To his dismay he saw her eyes filling with tears and instantly looked back down at his worn boots. The look on her face, in her eyes, made his heart clench.
Haltingly, he began to tell her what had happened at their end of the prison when the shit had hit the fan. He described coming upon Beth after taking out the tank and the dumbass jumping out of it who had stupidly believed Daryl would accept his surrender. Described telling Beth that they had to go, and taking off into the woods.
"Came upon a walker and a group of our people, what was left of 'em. Found Luke's shoe there once we'd disposed of the geek. Wanted to go on, weren't nothin' we could do anyways, but she cried and wouldn't come at first."
"What did you do?" Maggie asked him
"Do? What could I 'ave done?" He was genuinely confused.
Maggie stared at him. "You didn't try to comfort her? You just let her cry?"
He looked down at his feet, shoulders hunched, biting his lip. He finally risked a glance at her through his lanky, sweaty bangs when he tasted blood. "She was sad. Sad people cry, don't they?"
Maggie let out an exasperated sound, then asked: "So, what next? What else happened?"
The going got even more difficult when he told her about the golf club, about beating that walker to a pulp, spraying Beth with blood and brains, and he fumbled for words to describe her reminiscing on Hershel not allowing her to drink alcohol because of the trouble he himself had had with it. The old vet's name brought back the memory of his kind face on that last, fateful day just before the world had gone to hell.
His skin burned with shame as he recalled Carl asking him at the fence, looking at Hershel and Michonne kneeling outside, if he should shoot the Governor. His answer, his decision had cost Hershel and countless others their lives, Maggie and Beth had lost their father, and he had robbed them all of their home. It was all on him, no matter what Rick said.
Expecting disgust and accusations, he hesitantly revealed what had happened at the moonshine shack in the woods - though he kept the details of the game and the resulting shouting match to himself. Never again would he tell that much about himself, his past, his family, to anyone. Telling it all that one time while he'd been drunk and alone and afraid had hurt badly enough, taking him back to all the dark and terrible places in his mind that he'd believed he'd left behind long ago.
Inexperienced as he was in dealing with people and emotions, he didn't recognize the look of longing on Maggie's open face as he casually mentioned little detaills about her sister, such as her habit of stubbornly redoing that little braid of hers every single morning as if it made a goddamn difference how her hair was done up.
The older Greene sister practically gawked at him when he told her that he'd started teaching Beth the skills she would need to survive in this world. Fighting, killing, tracking, hunting, finding edible stuff in the woods - berries, roots, nuts, mushrooms. Killing, skinning and cooking snakes, squirrels, rabbits. Shooting with his crossbow. "You've never taught anyone before - why start now?"
"Won't none of us live forever," he mumbled. "Thought we were the last ones alive. Had to make sure she knows what she has to so she can survive on her own. Couldn't have 'er dependin' on me for shit."
Finally, he told her about the funeral home. Maggie cried when Daryl mentioned the piano, and Beth singing, and Glenn, who had quit bitching a while ago and caught up to them, comforted his wife, putting an arm around her and whispering that they'd find her.
As always when he witnessed scenes like this, Daryl envied them for how easily they could touch and be touched, give and accept consolation, give and accept trust. There was only one person his his own life with whom he'd been able to do all of that, and he had lost her. Again. For good.
Thinking of her made his mind go blank for a moment. He still hadn't grasped the full extent of what her getting banished, her not being near him when the prison fell so he could take her to safety, her having been out there on her own for days by now, really meant.
Reuniting with so many members of his prison family, finding them alive and well, had instilled in him a little hope that she might still be out there, somewhere. But was there any realistic hope of ever seeing her again in this world of monsters both dead and alive? There was no way of searching for her beyond himself physically going out, walking around and looking, on the off chance of finding something to track. Maybe asking for her whenever he met other people who seemed decent enough for him to even mention her. Never would he endanger her by revealing her existence to the likes of Joe and his bunch of murderous, rapist scumbags.
Realizing that Maggie had stopped crying and was waiting for him to continue, he mentally kicked himself, telling himself to get his head out of his ass. He needed to get this over with. After allowing his walls to crumble at that damn moonshine shack with Beth he felt horribly exposed now as he admitted, hesitantly, that Beth had instilled a measure of hope in him that others might have made it out, just like they had, and they might find each other again. Very briefly, for an instant only, he allowed himself to think of Carol again, to remember her face, and his chest ached.
Maggie's grief was palpable as he told her, Glenn and the other members of his prison family who had clustered around the three of them by now, how he had opened the door of the house that night to a group of walkers instead of the dog he expected. "Was all I could do to keep 'em out for a moment, warn her to stay away, but there was too damn many of 'em."
He recounted how he had yelled at Beth to grab her stuff and get out the back door. How he had drawn the walkers finally spilling in down into the basement to give her time. How he had barely made it out alive, only to find her pack on the ground and her whisked away by the car speeding off into the night. How he had run down the street after it all night until he'd collapsed with exhaustion at the crossroads where he'd had no way of telling in which direction the car had gone.
Raw with emotions he couldn't have named, hoarse from talking - he had never talked for such a huge length of time before in his life, ever, let alone to such a crowd - he mumbled an excuse and speeded up. He needed some space, needed to be alone for a bit after reliving all of this so intensely. Unbidden, his mind continued the journey on which he had taken Maggie and he felt deep remorse thinking back to the few days he'd spent with Joe and his group of thugs until they'd caught up with Rick, Michonne and Carl.
He couldn't help but feel that Carol would have been disappointed to see how easily he had fallen in with them, how effortlessly he was able to blend in with them, as if he had never been that man of honor that she saw in him. Believing as he did - until they came upon the candy wrapper that told him who they were following - that he was the only one left alive of their entire group, it had been so easy to give in to his old ways again. Hot with shame, he briefly looked up to get his bearings.
Ahead of them, the trees gave way to a meadow, dotted with bushes and small trees. The ground fell away very slightly, and the experienced tracker in him at once thought of the possibility of water at the bottom of this slope.
They had gotten out of Terminus in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs, the weapons they'd taken from their guards, those that Rick had buried before they'd gone in, and his crossbow. They had no additional gear whatsoever, no food, no tools. No containers for taking water along when they found it. Looking up at the sky, he estimated it was about four in the afternoon. They'd been walking nonstop without rest and without eating or drinking.
He stepped up to Rick. Even though the ginger kept babbling about his military training and was constantly trying to wrest control of the group from Rick, he was still their leader. To underline this fact, Daryl spoke softly now so only Rick could hear him, clearly supporting Rick's position by giving his counsel only to him.
"Need ta find water. If it's anywhere, I'd reckon it's down there, maybe a creek, a little lake, whatever. Damn, I'd settle for a puddle as long as it's clean enough ta drink. After that, could put in some huntin', get us dinner."
Rick looked at him, then out at the meadow again. "You're right, it's our best bet. But let's not all go out into the open - it's too exposed, and Maggie's ankle is still troubling her. I'll go, and you cover me. But stay out of sight, I'm not risking anyone here!"
Blushing, Daryl looked down at his boots. Rick knew exactly that Daryl would never stand by and let Rick risk his life. They both knew that, in this one thing, Daryl would never back down. He was loyal to a fault, and he would fight for Rick to the death if it meant saving him. Rick could order him, ask him, beg him even, to keep himself safely hidden until he was blue in the face - Daryl would still step in front of him every time.
"Won't be no protection 'f I stay hidden", Daryl mumbled. "I'll stay back as far as I can, but I ain't gonna let ya go out alone."
Resigned, Rick sighed and nodded his consent. "All right, but at least try not to get kicked this time." He glanced meaningfully at Daryl's bruised face and down at his friend's chest, raising an eyebrow. Daryl guiltily reached up with one hand to what he assumed were two or three cracked or broken ribs. Rick had caught him wincing in pain and rubbing his chest several times and had taken him aside to confront him about it as soon as they'd been out of sight of that blasted train terminus. Daryl managed to keep his thumb from going to his mouth, but he did gnaw on the inside of his cheeck as he nodded reluctantly.
Facing the rest of the group, they told the others that they would go looking for water and wanted them all to stay behind, concealed among the trees. Then Daryl raised his crossbow and the two of them walked right up to the treeline. Careful to make sure that nobody was out there, they looked up and down the meadow, checking if anyone was hiding among the trees on the other side of this valley or clearing or whatever it would turn out to be.
They stepped out into the open.
