A/N: I had originally had a reference to this 'clip' from the promo in Chapter 2, but I edited that out because I'm liking the idea of this being more about Daryl's growing relationships with everyone rather than keeping the focus pinned down on Caryl. I was drawn to the idea of this scene and let my muses run with it.
Daryl woke later than usual and found the camp in as much upheaval as he'd been throughout the night.
He grabbed the last of the powered egg breakfast and quietly watched Glenn pace, staring up at the farm house and wringing his cap in his hands.
From what Daryl could gather of the quiet conversations and apprehensive air among the group, they would be pulling up stakes shortly. Some of them, T-Dog, Carol and Andrea appeared to be starting already.
He tracked her movements as she took down the rope that had served as their clothesline, but she didn't pause under the weight of his stare. She kept her head purposefully averted when she dropped the looped twine to the growing pile of their junk and moved on to the next task she set for herself.
It wasn't a cold shoulder, she seemed set on pretending like he didn't even exist and he couldn't say he blamed her.
Glenn paced through his line a sight, providing a welcome distraction from Daryl's thoughts on how he'd fucked it all up at her confession the night before.
When the kid plunked himself down on the camping chair beside him, Daryl turned his gaze that way. The nervous energy in the Asian would have been obvious even without the way his knees kept bouncing and his hands kept jamming his cap on then tearing it right back off to allow his fingers to run through his inky black hair.
Daryl didn't have to ask to know what was tearing the guy up.
There was more to be lost here for Glenn than for any of them. Whatever was being debated by their hosts up at the big house, it would affect this young man more than anyone.
"It's just sex, right?" Glenn asked, turning toward him to leave Daryl without a doubt that the question was being asked of him. "We've only been here two weeks. People don't fall in love that quickly."
Daryl finished the last of his cold, congealed breakfast with it sinking like a stone in his stomach. Glenn didn't give him a chance to formulate any kind of response, but Daryl supposed the kid wasn't looking for it.
"She won't leave," Glenn's shoulders slouched forward and his feet stopped their jittery bouncing. The stillness was more unsettling than the anxious pacing. "We talked about it last night. Says she can't leave them. They need her. I get that," his fingers speared and tangled in his dark hair as the kid wrestled with his thoughts. "She's strong. A protector. These people are her family. I can't expect her to leave them here after all they've been through."
The soft words tore at Daryl and that defeated posture looked a little too familiar for his comfort. Daryl unconsciously raised a hand to smooth over his own hair, wondering if it was still mussed from how he'd tangled his fingers in it so frequently in the night. His eyes sought out Carol again, finding her with Andrea as the pair worked to dismantle the Grimes' tent.
He sensed Glenn turning to watch the largest of their shelters fall once the supports were removed. Both men tensed a bit at the sight, knowing what it meant for their group.
"I can't stay. She can't expect me to stay, right?" Glenn asked, clearly thinking aloud as they both kept watch of the women moving to fold the collapsed canvas. "You guys…this is as close as I have to family anymore."
The simple truth of that hovered between them and the young man fell silent after airing that particular bit of knowledge.
They were an odd bunch of orphans, thrown together by the fates.
Daryl's gaze moved from the women who'd completed their task and moved efficiently on to the next tent in their circle.
He took in the dejected figure beside him then moved on to T-Dog doing the heavy lifting of various items from the pile on the ground to the top of the RV to be strapped down, out of the way there, for this next stage of their journey.
Rick and Carl were nowhere to be seen, but Daryl could imagine the Deputy most likely keeping an anxious guard at the house and his son probably tagging along as they waited for the official expulsion from this place.
His eyes narrowed slightly as they touched on Dale and Lori, standing together and staring worriedly toward the road while the older man spoke quietly to the woman. Daryl followed their focus to Shane, messing in the back of his new ride.
Something was off in that picture.
With another glance at Glenn, Daryl rose from his seat, resisting an urge to pat the guy's back or something in consolation. He turned without making any such gestures, though, and left the young man to his thoughts.
Glenn gave no reaction to his leaving, but Daryl was used to passing unnoticed while things - people, animals, the undead – were distracted. It was both a blessing and curse, given the way of the world now.
As he crossed the ground to Shane's Hyundai, Dale caught his eye and Daryl frowned at the look in the old man's eyes as they seemed to warn Daryl to proceed with caution.
He shook off the warning with a huff and roll of his eyes, growing tired of the group's tip-toeing around the elephant in the room.
Shane was still when Daryl walked up on him, shaven head bent forward as his dark eyes surveyed the contents in the back of the vehicle. A muscle ticked in the man's cheek, telling of the violent place his head was still at.
If that anger and energy could have been rerouted, Daryl imagined the group would have a pretty good shot, but even before the barn scene, he had begun to sense that the cop was pretty much done channeling any energy toward civility.
With the exception of Dale's Hawkeye and Rick's Python, every gun from the group laid spread out on an Army blanket before him and Daryl knew then why Lori and the old man had been watching Shane so anxiously. Andrea had even surrendered her Ladysmith to the collection.
Shane didn't protest any when Daryl shouldered in closer and bent to pick up the Remington. He'd not touched the damned thing since dropping in the dirt to grab Carol and he didn't much care for the weight of it back in his hands.
Guns had always been more Merle's thing.
Gramps had taught them to hunt with any and every weapon imaginable, even how to make up a few as they went, and Daryl had always preferred the lighter, stealthier tools like his bow or a knife. They'd always seemed more precise and efficient in how they killed. Less mess than the splatter of a bullet tearing through the meat and muscle of the animal he intended to eat. The quiet of such weapons was an added bonus, keeping other game from bolting so that Daryl had always had the chance at an abundant hunt.
All of those traits were even more desirable in the situation he found himself in now with a world overrun by Walkers.
Putting those thoughts aside, he gave the shotgun a quick pump to insure the action was still as it should be, shouldering the empty weapon to gaze down the site and make sure he hadn't thrown it off any with the way he'd cast it to the ground.
"Cleaned them all well enough," Shane said, leaning back against the open hatch of the car. "Ammo's the problem. We should have just burned the thing sooner, with those things inside."
"Lotta things we probably should've done different that day," Daryl mused softly, with a speaking glance the other man failed to feel or simply refused to acknowledge. He put the shotgun back down, seeing the drastically reduced number of bullets and shells on the blanket. "We'll have to stock up next town we get to. Maggie'll tell us where we can find some more."
"Now that's some bullshit right there," Shane said, stiffening up and rubbing at the back of his neck in agitation. "There's no reason for us to be leaving here."
"Awful funny coming from the guy who's been chomping at the bit to get gone from here since the kid got patched up," Daryl scoffed, eyes narrowing as he watched the other man.
"Things have changed. Walkers are gone. We got a good stronghold here."
"'Cept it ain't ours."
"We can change that," Shane moved in to bend his head toward him and speak more quietly. "It's just the five of them, man. Pitchforks and words are all they've got. There's ten of us, we've got the guns here."
"What exactly are you saying?" Daryl wasn't surprised by the thinking the other man had done, any more than he was shocked to have Shane trying to get his cooperation.
"I'm saying they'll get used to it. Get used to us. We just have to assert our position. Got a right to stay."
"But no reason," he argued, turning away with a disgusted shake of his head.
"Look, man," Shane stopped him with a rough hand on his right arm and Daryl went for his knife with his left hand. Shane let him go as soon as he saw the weapon unsheathed, putting his hands up and stepping back in a motion meant to ease some of the tension. "Look," the man pressed on quietly, after a glance around found them gathering an audience, "all I'm saying is that we can hold this ground. Hershel's kept it up well. We've got food here, water and shelter. Enough to last us until…"
Daryl easily filled the space Shane's trailing words left. He knew that Rick had had the same motivation when he argued so hard for their staying.
Lori.
The way would be rough with her growing heavy with child and once the kid popped out, they'd likely be in for a world of hurt given that Daryl had never encountered a baby that wasn't prone to squalling. All their lives would be endangered further by that unless and until they found a stronghold.
"That's not the way," Daryl said, looking pointedly at the guns.
"It's the only way," Shane argued, puffing up at having his idea rejected. "We've gotta think of the group. Protecting our own."
"Other ways to do it," Daryl turned his back on the man again.
"Like what? You got any bright ideas?"
Not about to be baited by the man, Daryl began to walk away.
"What do you do to keep this camp safe?" Shane challenged, storming after him. "Huh? What do you do?"
"Don't you tell me I ain't been gettin' my hands dirty," Daryl swung back, knife rising to push the man back. "I do what has to be done. What has to be done. You wanna take this place with force, hold that family hostage after all you've done, you're on your own and don't be saying you're doing it for this group."
Shane had no words to counter the rare speech and reacted with force, knocking the knife aside and putting his shoulder in Daryl's midsection.
Having taken a similar hit before, Daryl knew not to try overtaking the man and finding himself in another chokehold. He fell back under the other man's weight instead, grabbing Shane's tee shirt and yanking it up as they hit the dirt. He'd watched enough hockey to see how the maneuver worked, pulling the material over his opponent's head and using the momentary distraction to get in a few body blows.
The cop's gut was as rock hard as he'd wanted it to look, but Daryl still hit at it, aiming for a kidney until Shane freed an arm from the tangle of his shirt and brought an elbow down on Daryl's chest.
Winded, but far from down, Daryl grabbed that elbow and yanked as hard as he could manage, twisting the other man off balance just enough to push out from under him. Shane took the moment to tear off his shirt completely before reaching to snag the waist of Daryl's pants to pull him back.
Instinctively, he kicked backward at the hold, feeling his heel connect soundly with flesh and grinning at the pained grunt from the other man. He flipped over to his back in time to see Shane spit blood then jumped to his feet just as the other man did.
They circled one another, sizing up the opposition and paying no attention to the group calling out for them to stop.
Daryl kept his fists up, but elbows low, anticipating another attack against his vulnerable midsection.
Shane kept his fists and elbows up, knowing his face to be the most likely target for Daryl's blows.
When they finally moved it was to prove each other wrong in their assumptions. Shane's fist plowed into his cheek like a fucking brick while Daryl lashed out with a kick to the other man's side that Merle would have hooted with laughter over.
He spit some blood of his own while Shane bounced back on the balls of his feet, grinning at the lack of effect that the kick had had on him.
"You think you've got a chance against me, you dumb hick? I crap pieces of shit tougher than you'll ever be."
Used to a higher standard, or lower depending on one's outlook, of insults from his brother, Daryl didn't flinch at the taunt and saw the next punch coming in time to spin away from it and bring a hard elbow up to meet Shane's face when the man leaned forward with the follow-through of the swing.
The crunch and snap of cartilage was satisfactory for only a moment before the man roared around at the impact and lunged for retaliation.
Daryl felt a rib snap under the blunt force of the shoulder Shane drove into it, hitting him like a bull in full rage. The bastard caught him on his wounded side, tearing at the stitches that would have been removed in another day or so and hurting like the worst motherfucker.
He hadn't a chance after that, badass as he'd like to be. Shane took him all the way to the ground then straddled his prone body to begin pounding on it and all Daryl could do was block some of the blows to his face.
It took both T-Dog's tackle and Rick's return to get the bastard off of him.
What happened after that he wasn't all together certain with his loss of consciousness.
A/N 2: I've watched the promo over and over and still have no idea exactly what it is that Daryl said to Shane in the clip, but I know I didn't get it exactly right so if anyone knows is actual words please let me know. And, I know, the Shane bit is getting old. Thanks for bearing with me though and we're moving past it now and back to Carol.