Warnings: it is a dark fic, so don't read if you don't like that kind of story. Violence, torture, possible rape (slash), characters' death.

Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead. A special thanks to my beta 'Spitfire47' who's doing a really great job.

Chapter 3

Present

"We need to find more food," Michonne reported, eating the remnant of a can of beans with a spoon, "and some meds for Daryl."

She was sitting on the bench outside with Rick. It was the middle of their third day at the cabin and they were getting short on food and water. Daryl wasn't getting better; he had so much trouble getting some sleep because of the pain so he wasn't able to rest enough to get his strength back. And he was nauseous, so he didn't want to eat anything. Rick and Michonne were also worried that his wounds became infected so they tried to keep them as clean as possible with what they found in the cabin.

"Yea, I know. But we can't leave him alone," Rick said standing up and pacing up and down the gallery. "I'll go…You just have to stay here and take care of him," he proposed after a few seconds.

"Fine…But where will you go? It's not safe, we don't know if they're still around. And not to mention the big herd we encountered just before we left the main road…"

"Don't worry, I won't try anything stupid," Rick assured, squeezing Michonne's shoulder gently.

They both went back inside to make a list of their needs. Daryl was lying on his back, sleeping. But by the moans escaping his lips, they knew he would be awake soon. They knew the sheet would be stained with blood again, but the hunter wasn't able to rest on his side for too long. Either he lied on his good shoulder but hurt his injured thigh, either he rested on the side of his good leg but got uncomfortable because of the wounds in his shoulder. Daryl had decided that he didn't care about losing a small amount of blood as long as he could manage to get some sleep.

After Rick had left about thirty minutes later, Michonne sat on the couch and grabbed the comic book from the table. The day before she had found a box packed with about fifty of those and was really glad about it. Reading them was helping her forget about the apocalypse and the worries they all had. She decided she would bring the box with them when they would be ready to leave to give the comics to Carl who loved them as well.

"Michonne…"

The black woman let go of her reading to look at a pair of tired blue eyes fixed on her. She smiled and got up to go kneel next to the mattress.

"Hey, Daryl…How are you doing?" she asked, touching the man's forehead with the back of her hand. By the way he reacted to her touch, she knew he didn't like it, but she didn't want to take any chance to miss the beginning of a fever.

"Like shit," he complained, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly. "I ain't feeling like I'm getting better…"

"It's okay; it's not your fault. Rick left for a run. He's gonna try to find food and medication."

"He's gonna make himself kill…"

"No, he won't, don't say that," Michonne disapproved, shaking her head. "Is there something you want me to do to make you feel better?"

"Shoot me…" Daryl almost begged in a whisper.

"It's not funny, Dixon!"

"It ain't a joke. It's gonna be easier without me for both of you."

"No it won't…And we won't leave you behind and we won't shoot you either. So, do you want something else?"

"Water, maybe…I'm thirsty…"

Michonne nodded, stood up and went to get one of the few bottles of water they had left. She came back and sat on the mattress next to her friend. She helped him drinking a few sips and lied down on her back beside him.

"Do you think we'll get through this shit?" Daryl asked, shifting a little to get comfortable but whining in pain when he put too much pressure on his injured leg by accident.

"I'm sure we will…One day…"

Michonne didn't know what the hunter was talking about exactly but supposed that a little bit of hope couldn't hurt. She didn't know if she sound convincing because deep down, she wasn't convinced at all.

Flashback (group)

Tyreese was driving the bus for about three hours when they decided to pull over in the middle of a small town. There were a small grocery store, a pharmacy and even a hunting store. Rick who was sitting in the front seat stood up and turned to look at the group.

"We'll form three groups. One will go at the grocery store, the other one at the pharmacy and the last one, with me, at the hunting store. Glenn, I want you to find one or two vehicles that we can use."

They took a few minutes to decide who would go where. Tyreese was chosen to go to the grocery store with George and Martin while Michonne would accompany Hershel and Maggie at the pharmacy. Rick proposed to Carl to come with him at the hunting shop. The others had to stay inside or around the bus in case they had to leave quickly.

About one hour later and the kill of about twenty walkers, everyone was back at the bus. They didn't find plenty of food, but they found enough to survive for three or four days. They got more lucky with the pharmacy where they found, in a locked back store, a box packed with formula for Judith, a few bottles of painkiller and antibiotics, all the materiel Hershel would need if someone got hurt or sick and even five big bottles of water that were usually used in water dispenser. Rick didn't find any guns, but he found four sleeping bags, two tents, a few knifes, about ten boxes of ammos and a few arrows that could be used with Daryl's crossbow. When Rick picked them up, he felt a knot in the stomach; he really had to find his friend.

About twenty minutes later, when the sun began to be low in the sky, the bus left the town followed by Glenn and Maggie in a black car and Michonne and Carl in a red truck. The Korean even found enough gas in the several vehicles parked in the main street to fill a few cans that he had packed in the back of the truck.

About ten miles away from the town, they passed a small church and because it was getting dark, Rick decided they should stop for the night. Tyreese and Michonne entered first and killed two walkers, a priest and a woman that were trapped inside. When they were sure there was no other bad surprise, the rest of the group entered as well. It wasn't a palace, but they had a roof for the night and they were safe, for now.

Flashback (Daryl)

Daryl was pacing as far as the chain was allowing him to. He was bored to stay in that dark room. A few hours ago Martinez had brought him a bottle of water with a bowl of cold oatmeal. It wasn't really tasty but at least he wasn't hungry anymore. When he was done eating he had slept probably a few hours and when he had wakened up he was completely freezing. It was why he had decided to stand up and move a bit to try to warm himself up. The burns on his torso were still painful but it was bearable. He had no idea of what time it was, for how long he was there and when someone would come to see him again.

All this time by himself allowed him to think a lot about his friends. Daryl was worried about them and wondered how many of them had made it after the Governor's attack. He hoped that Rick and the group thought he was dead because he didn't want them to come after him. He knew if they would decide to look for him and found out this place, Rick and Michonne would probably get tortured and killed slowly and the others massacred. He didn't want that; his life wasn't worth it. Daryl knew the Governor would keep torturing him until he got bored or until he died from the treatments he was receiving. But he didn't care to suffer as long as his friends were safe.

The hunter was still walking around thinking about keeping his family safe when he heard the door being unlocked. He stopped his pacing and waited to see what was coming. The door opened and Daryl was blind again by the flashlight pointing at his eyes.

"Hey Dixon, how are you today?" Martinez asked, playfully. "Are you ready for the second round?"

"Fuck you!"

"Hahaha…Do you never have something else to say?"

"Ain't anything to say to you," Daryl let out, not moving a muscle and waiting while the Hispanic man was walking toward him. "You're just the asshole who served another one who thinks he's more important…"

"I'm not coming here because I'm forced, dumbass; it's because I want to," Martinez explained, lowering his flashlight and stopping in front of Daryl but staying out of reach. "You can't imagine how good it feels to bring you to Philip knowing what he will do to you. But the best part it's when I have to take you back here and witness how beaten and weak you are after your meeting with him. And knowing it's going to get worst each day, I can't wait to see how you'll look like in one week…Well, if you're still alive!"

"I'm going to kill you," Daryl snapped out, trying to hit the other man but failing because of the chain restraining him.

"Yea, sure you are…Now, on your knees; he's waiting for you…"

"Make me!" the hunter challenged, ready to fight.

"I have no problem with that," Martinez said, grinning. "John, Shumpert…I need a hand in here," he yelled looking toward the door.

The two men appeared in the doorframe and walked into the room.

"Who's the weak one, now?" Daryl asked, looking at the other man with daggers. He knew he didn't have any chance against the three of them but he was more furious than scared. "You're not even able to do the job yourself."

"Don't care," the Hispanic said, shrugging. "Guys, catch him!"

Smiling, John and Shumpert walked toward Daryl who took a few steps back to give some loose to the chain. It took a few minutes to the men to control the hunter, but before they overpowered him and had him kneeling in front of Martinez, the redneck had managed to kick Shumpert in the groin, making him curse in pain and punch John on the face with his elbow, giving him an eminent black eye.

"You think that's funny?" the Hispanic man questioned, looking at a smiling Daryl. "We'll see if you laugh again after this…" Martinez walked closer and without giving the other man time to react, his fist connected with the hunter's jaw, cutting a part of his lower lip. "This is for the punch you gave me yesterday…" Then, he took a step back and kicked Daryl on the side, above his hip and did it another time, but this time on his lower belly. If it wasn't for the two other men who were holding him, the hunter would have rolled over on the floor, in pain. "And these two were for John and Shumpert…Now, I'm gonna unchain you and you're better stay still…"

While Martinez was removing the chain from his handcuffs, Daryl licked his lips and noted that he was bleeding and by the pain he was feeling, he guessed his stomach would probably be dark purple in a few hours. He knew he deserved it; he should have done what Martinez had told him to do. But he was so upset about being the Governor's prisoner that he didn't know why he should cooperate. He wanted to make his captors' job as hard as possible.

"Good…Now, stand up…I hope you're ready, because Philip's gonna be really pissed."

John and Shumpert pulled Daryl up and gave him a rough push on the back to make him follow Martinez who was in front of them. They took the stairs and when they reached the main hall, the hunter could hear people chatting and laughing in the living room. When they passed in front of them, they looked at him again like he was a dangerous terrorist. When they arrived at the Governor's office, the door was already opened, so they entered and found him playing in the fire with the metal poker. When he noticed their presence, he put the poker in a rack next to the fireplace and walked to join them.

"What happened?" the Governor asked, looking at John's and Daryl's face.

"Our guest was a smartass and didn't want to cooperate. So I needed to teach him how to behave," Martinez explained.

"Well, we'll see if he still wants to play hard to get after our quality time together…Bend him over the table, his hands and feet wide apart."

The Hispanic man un-cuffed Daryl and let John and Shumpert grabbing his upper arms and leading him to the table. Martinez followed behind and pushed Daryl roughly on the back to bend him over, his torso and face on the table. The redneck was struggling against them, so Martinez had to use a lot of strength to keep him down while the two other men tied the ropes around Daryl's wrists and ankles.

"Done," Shumpert noted, moving away from the table.

"You see, Daryl, even when you fight you're still too weak!" Martinez whispered in the redneck's ear. He took a handful of the other man's hair and hit his forehead hard on the table making him see stars for a few seconds. "I wonder what Merle would think of you if he could see you like that…"

The Hispanic man let go of him and left the room with John and Shumpert.

"Don't worry, Daryl, Merle always knew he was the strong and powerful brother," the Governor assured playfully, standing behind Daryl. "And now, what about getting started with our little session…"

The tall man walked to the side of the table so the hunter could see him. He took a knife from the sheath of his belt and tested the sharpness of the blade by sliding the tip of his finger on it. When a drop of blood appeared, he grinned with enjoyment.

The Governor walked back behind Daryl and let his hand run on his lower back, making him tense.

"First, I'm going to get that shirt out of the way," he said, cutting the cloth in pieces and dropping them on the floor. "Mmmm, that's interesting…" he murmured, running his fingers up and down Daryl's back.

"Who did that to you?" he wondered, tracing the scars visible on the other man's skin. "Merle? Your father? Someone else who liked to mark you as his own?" the Governor guessed, smiling at that last thought.

But Daryl didn't say anything. He just stayed still and tried to relax even if he hated the feeling of his captor's hands on him. He didn't want to show him the effect he had on him.

"Whatever…But maybe if I cut them open again, you'll remember…" the Governor suggested, approaching the knife above the tattoo on his right shoulder blade.

He pressed the blade against Daryl's skin and followed the long scar finishing in the middle of his back, on the left side of his spine. The hunter could feel the knife cutting his flesh but since it wasn't too deep, the pain was tolerable. The Governor kept working on Daryl's back until every scar was reopened and bleeding.

"I'm a bit disappointed, Daryl," the tall man said, putting his knife back in its sheath. "It seems like I'm the only one active in that game…It's time for some action, don't you think?"

The Governor moved away and walked to his desk. Daryl could feel his blood running down his back and into his pants. He turned his head to look at the other man and went he realized he was busied searching something in different drawers he began pulling against the ropes. But like the last time, his move was just tightening them even more around his ankles and wrists. Sighing, his attention went back to the Governor who had apparently found what he was looking for and was walking back to him.

"Look what I found," the man said, showing a bottle alcohol to Daryl and opening the lid. "It's very important that these wounds don't get infected…"

On these words, the Governor took a step closer and poured half the liquid of the bottle onto the hunter's back.

"Arhhhhhhh," Daryl groaned, surprised by the sudden pain. "Son of a bitch!"

"What? You're injured; I'm just taking care of you," the Governor explained, laughing.

"I swear you're gonna pay for this!" the hunter hissed, feeling the burn of the alcohol fading away.

"Yea, yea I'm sure I will. Now, what about taking it to the next level…"

The Governor put the bottle on the floor, got closer to the table and ran his hand on Daryl's side until he reached the front of his pants, making the redneck buck away. He unbuckled his belt and removed it. Daryl had lost weight and without his belt, his pants a bit too big were now hanging low on his hips.

"I'm sure I'm going to enjoy the next part…"

Without saying anything else, the Governor gave one whip on Daryl's lower back with the belt. The hunter had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming. The tall man whipped him once again, but this time, hitting one of the cuts he had just made. This time the pain had increased to a new level and Daryl let out a low groan. Noticing his prisoner's new reaction, the Governor kept beating him by ensuring that the belt always touched one of the still open wounds. By reflex, Daryl tried to move away by laying his stomach on the table, putting pressure on the burns made the day before. It wasn't a good idea because it was hurting as well. After a few more belt lashes, the hunter couldn't hide that he was suffering anymore and let out a loud complain.

"Yea, keep going…I like the sound of that," the Governor said, increasing the strength in his arm.

Daryl hated not being able to control himself. He didn't want to look like he was weak but it was too much; the pain was intolerable. He could feel tears filling his eyes and his entire body sweating and shaking. After a few mores lashes, his legs gave up under him but the ropes around his wrists kept him in place. He thought he was going to pass out when the Governor stopped the torture.

"I think it's enough for now I don't want to hurt my arm," the tall man decided, putting the belt on a small table next to the fireplace. "I'll keep it, if you don't mind I'm sure we'll need it again soon."

Daryl took a look at his belt and noticed that bloody pieces of his flesh had stick to the leather. He didn't want to think about how his back looked like now.

"I think I made a little bit of a mess up there," the Governor observed, moving back behind the redneck and running a finger down his back. "I should clean it a bit." The tall man took the bottle of alcohol from the floor and poured the rest of the liquid on Daryl's back.

"AARGHHHHHHH," the hunter cried out, not caring about hiding his suffering anymore.

Daryl felt the ropes around his wrists being removed. Not able to bear his weight, he slid slowly off the table and fell on the floor. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the Governor standing next to him, an evil grin on his face.

Please, let me know what you think...Reviews and comments are like rewards to me and they help my muse. So they make me update my stories faster.