It's been nearly two weeks since the rescue, a few days after Daryl's talk with Tara, and he hasn't seen any sign of Martinez. He hasn't stopped his scouting, not for a second. When he goes hunting, he's checking the surrounding woods for signs that anyone's been there. When he's on watch, he doesn't take his eyes off the road or the surrounding woods. When he's clearing the fence of walkers, his eyes scan the woods for signs of anyone who isn't supposed to he there. Whatever Daryl does, he finds a way to turn it into a lookout for Martinez. It keeps him busy, keeps his mind off of dealing with what's happened to him, and he takes small comfort in that.
It's not that he's expecting Martinez to show up guns blazing, Daryl knows he's an honest man who sticks to his word. He's sure Martinez will keep his people away from the prison, Daryl never would have let him live if he didn't think that. But if for some reason their plan backfires, if something happens and their plan to keep the two camps separate gets foiled, he doesn't want to get blindsided by an army of pissed off people.
The last thing the prison needs right now is another war on their hands. The place has grown in the months since the Governor's first attack, they've got kids, some just brand new pups, and the last thing Daryl wants is for them to witness how ugly other people can be. That's why he's been keeping watch, to make sure that nothings wrong. That's his job, what he's here for. It's his job to keep these people safe, keep the prison standing. It's been nearly two weeks and he hasn't seen a sign that anything strange has been near the prison. Daryl figures if something had happened, he or someone else in prison would have found out by now.
Daryl's by the fence now, killing off straggling walkers. He doesn't need to do this, the fences are holding just fine, but it gives him something to do, something to think about when his head gets so full of information it feels like he's going to explode. It's late, he should probably get inside, but keeping busy helps take his mind off of things he doesn't want to think about. He jabs his pole through the eye of walker and moves down the line to attack another one.
The night is cold enough that Daryl can see his breath, but he doesn't mind it. The brisk cold and the repetitive action clears his head, makes everything seem a little more bearable. Sometimes he just needs to clear his head, get away from the stuffiness of the prison and the looks that people keep throwing at him.
He can handle the looks that Glenn and Carol and Hershel and the rest of the original crew give him, he knows they're just worried about him. Every now and then they'll throw him a quick glance to make sure he's in one piece, make sure he hasn't collapsed from exhaustion or something else, and he can handle that. They don't pity him, don't want to rub his back and say everything's going to be okay. All they care about is making sure he gets enough food and water so he doesn't pass out. They know Daryl's not perfect, know this better than anyone, and are willing to let him do what he needs to do to get his life back on track.
They now that this is Daryl's way of dealing with really tough shit, so they make sure to give him the space he needs to breathe while still making sure he's taking care of himself. If he really needs any of them, he'll go to them and they know it. The group's fine taking the backseat until they're sure Daryl's ready to have all of them around him and he likes that, he can handle that. They're there but they're not there, and Daryl's lucky to have found a group of people who understand him so well.
It's the others he can't handle, the newcomers. They see him as a provider, the group's confidant, the man who'll do anything for anybody without a second glance because that's the kind of person he is. They see him as a hero, no matter how many times Daryl's tries to deter them from that idea, and Daryl would be damned if he looked like a broken bitch in front of them. He doesn't know them well enough to let down his guard in front of them, so if he has to act like nothing's wrong he will.
The problem is that they're always there. There's always someone looking, someone smiling, someone reaching out to touch him, and Daryl feels like he's going to explode. He can't catch a fucking break. He's barely holding it together, his insides feel like they're slowly unraveling, but there's people who rely on him for protection and food and supplies. How is he supposed to stop and get his head screwed on straight when there's always so much that needs to be done?
They aren't stupid. They know something had happened to him and Glenn, but hardly anyone's been filled in on the whole story. Rumors had flown throughout the prison about what had happened, and the looks of pity Daryl had received because of it was enough to set his teeth on edge. He decided then and there that he was going to play the strong card, act like nothing was wrong with him and that everything was just fine and dandy. Apparently Daryl's a decent actor because it worked, and the looks of pity stopped.
He's the strong one, the one who never breaks, the one who brings home meat on his hunts and supplies on his runs. It doesn't matter that there's so many other people who do the same damn thing, that's who he is and that's who he's going to portray himself as. So he's been building this shield up around him, making him look like he's fucking fine and dandy when really he wants to break inside.
He's scared and he's angry and he's so god damn hurt, but he can't show any of that emotion because these people believe in him, they rely on him. If they knew Daryl, the Daryl Dixon as many of them put it, had been kidnapped, beaten, and raped repeatedly during his heat who knows what they'd start to think. And Daryl doesn't want shit getting brought up. He doesn't want questions being asked and accusations being thrown, so if he has to zip his lips and put on a face to stop their inquires he will.
It's been a few days since his talk with Tara and Daryl's really trying to take her words to heart. He's been spending more time with Rick, it's still not as much time as they used to spend together but it's something. He'll brush his hand over Rick's when they pass each other, lean against him for a few seconds when it's just the two of them. Rick doesn't act like it's a big deal, but he can tell it is by the way Rick's face lights up when he does it. He knows that Daryl being so distant is killing his mate, he can see it on his face, but Daryl is confused and he's been trying to sift through his different emotions. He doesn't want to cause Rick any pain.
He loves Rick, and he knows the man loves him, but it's hard to go to him with everything he's feeling. He feels disgusting, so fucking disgusting, and he doesn't understand why Rick's not repulsed at the sight of him. He hadn't let the Governor or his men break him, but they had locked him into a breeding bench and raped him repeatedly. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Glenn had been a witness to the entire act. That's not something you just get over. He can still smell the revolting scent of the Alphas all over him and no matter how many times he showers he can't get the feel of their hands off of him. He wants Rick, wants to go to him so badly, but he doesn't understand how Daryl could possibly be something that Rick still wants. Daryl's disgusted when he looks in the mirror, how can Rick not be?
Daryl sighs heavily and looks up. The moon has shifted position drastically in the sky and Daryl realizes he has no idea how long he's been out there. He decides to call it a night, throws down the pole he's been using to kill walkers, and heads back into the prison.
He passes Maggie on the way in. She's heading towards the guard tower so he's sure she's about to relieve whoever's up there right now. Maggie doesn't say anything at first, just smiles at Daryl and lifts her hand in greeting. Daryl twitches his lips into a smile and waves back.
"Sleep well Daryl," she says, smiling, as she passes him. She doesn't ask what Daryl's been doing or why he's out here so late which Daryl's glad for. He hates having to explain himself.
Daryl makes his way into the prison. The halls are pretty much empty, it's dark and quiet and he knows most people are sleeping by now, so he's quiet as he makes his way towards his cell block. He figures it'll be empty, that everyone will be in their cells fast asleep, but when he walks in he sees that Rick's up with Judith. She's been fussy lately, Hershel thinks she might be starting to teeth, and has woken Rick up multiple times in the middle of the night because of it.
Rick's sitting up against the wall. Judith's settled comfortably in his lap, head resting in the crook of his arm, while Rick's his slide over the pages of a book. Judith's got one of those teething rings clutched in her hands, chewing on it half-heartedly as her eyes start to slip closed. It's helped a lot with her fussing over the past few weeks, thank god they'd been able to find it, and Judith really seemed to like chewing on it.
Daryl tries to be quiet once he realizes she's almost asleep, but it's too late. She's already heard footsteps and is wide awake. She looks up, and giggles the second she lays eyes on him. Rick looks up at the sound and smiles. Daryl feels horrible, he knows Rick's probably dead tired and Judith had been half asleep before he had walked in.
Judith makes grabby hands when he gets closer, and Daryl can't help but bend down to press his lips against the top of her head. She giggles and fists her meaty hands in his shirt, begging to be picked up. Daryl has never been able to resist Judith's pleas, so he picks her up and settles her on his hip.
She fists her hands in his shirt and babbles happily into his ear, all thoughts of teething rings gone. Daryl's happy he still gets this reaction from her. He hasn't been spending as much time as he usually does with her and it's been killing him.
"Hey baby girl," he says, pressing his face in her soft curls. Judith's the only one whose opinion of him hasn't wavered even a smidge. She's just a baby, doesn't know what's happened to him, all she knows is that she still wants her Daryl to pick her up. "Ya givin' yer Daddy any trouble?" Daryl presses his lips against one of her smooth fists and she smiles up at him.
Rick smiles as he stands up, book left forgotten on the floor. "She's been a little fussy, I think her teeth might be bothering her, but she hasn't been that bad."
Daryl bends down to pick up her teething ring, wipes off any dirt that may be on it with his shirt sleeve, and hands it back to her. She takes it eagerly, chomping down on it, and her eyes start to close once again. Daryl looks up, Rick's standing right there next to him, and he can't resist what he does next.
Daryl rests his face against Rick's chest, taking in the unmistakable scent of his Alpha. Rick smells like everything Daryl's been aching for and more, and he wants nothing more than to just bury himself in the scent. But he knows he can't, at least not right now. He wants Rick, wants to lay in his arms and let him take away his pain, but first he's got to get his head screwed on straight.
"You want me to take her so you can catch some sleep?" Daryl asks softly. He doesn't move his face, not yet, and Rick doesn't do anything that'll make Daryl want to move. He knows not to push him, to just let him do what he needs, and Daryl has never loved Rick more than he does right there. He's so understanding, has been more understanding about this whole situation than Daryl could have hope for, and Daryl doesn't deserve him.
"No," Rick says, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Daryl's hair. "You haven't been to bed yet, you've got to be exhausted. I've already slept some, I'll stay with her until she falls asleep."
Daryl nods and presses a kiss against the top of Judith's head as he slips her over into Rick's arms. "I'll see you in the morning," Daryl says softly, pulling away from Rick.
Rick smiles and nods. "'Course," he says. "Sleep well Daryl."
Daryl nods and retreats towards the stairs. He's returned to sleeping in his perch, the only difference is that Rick refuses to let Daryl sleep on cold metal this time. He'd dragged an unused mattress up there for him the day they'd gotten back after the rescue and helped to make sure it was warm and comfortable.
Daryl knows he can go back to sleeping with Rick any time he wants, Rick wouldn't mind. Daryl had never liked cramped spaces but sleeping with Rick felt right, no matter how cramped the cells got. But right now the confined space reminds him too much of being tied down, and Daryl can't handle it.
Daryl flops down on his mattress and pulls the blanket up and over his head. Daryl can hear Rick slowly start to sing, something he would claim he's doing for Judith's benefit if he were asked but Daryl knows he's really doing it to help Daryl sleep. Even with him all the way up here, refusing to sleep with his mate, Rick is still doing whatever he can to take care of him. Daryl thinks once again he doesn't deserve someone like Rick.
Daryl's exhausted, but Rick's voice is soothing and makes is eyelids start to droop. In a matter of seconds Daryl's eyes are slipping closed, falling asleep to the sound of his daughter cooing softly and his mate singing. It was the only comfort he found for a while.
Daryl's freezing, fucking freezing cold, and his entire body is on fire. It takes him a second to realize he's lying against cold steel, the metal sticking to his skin in ways that are anything but pleasant. It doesn't take him long to realize he's naked and strapped into the breeding bench, unable to move because of the restraints. He's back in the Alpha house and he feels panic and bile rising in his stomach.
All the sudden there's hands, hands all of over him, touching, pinching, pulling. Daryl just wants them to stop, to go away, to leave him alone. Why the fuck won't they just go away. He wants to be back in the prison where he's comfortable and okay, where everyone is comfortable and okay. There's pain, unimaginable pain, and Daryl's screaming at the top of his lungs. It hurts, everything hurts so much, and he just wants it to stop. He wants Rick, needs Rick, but Rick's not here and he's completely by himself.
He knows he's tearing, that his ass is going to be in ruins after this, knows that he's going to have finger shaped bruises all over his body for weeks, and he just wants it to stop. Why won't it fucking stop. He thought he was done with this, Rick had come and gotten him hadn't he? Why was he here again, why won't his pain just stop?
He feels someone pull out and immediately after another one takes his place, this man just even more brutal than the previous man. There's no relief, no nothing, and Daryl's sure he's going to break. A sound he's never made before escapes his throat and the men behind him laugh. They like his pain, it makes this better for them, and Daryl feels as if he's going to be sick to his fucking stomach. He's so tired, he's in so much pain, and he just wants to sleep. But he can't. Not when he's in this position, not when his entire body is on fire, not when his chest hurts and he can't breathe.
"Such a good little bitch," the Governor chants next to his ear and Daryl honestly feels like he's going to be sick. His stomach twists, bile starts to rise, and he has to choke it down. He just wants this to stop, wants the hands to go away, but he can't say anything. His head is wrenched back and the Governor presses against his mating mark, the mark that only Rick is supposed to touch, and pain explodes throughout him.
"Don't act like you weren't gagging for this," the Governor says, and Daryl bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood in his mouth. He flinches when the Governor clamps a hand down on Daryl's neck, and he only laughs. "You're hole's been dripping since the second we locked you into this thing. Don't act like you don't want this."
Daryl doesn't say anything, Daryl can't say anything. He's so scared, so panicked, and his chest is starting to hurt. He feels the Governor sink his teeth into his neck, biting harshly at the tender flesh there, and Daryl screams out in agony. This can't be happening, this can't happening, he doesn't want anything on his skin that makes it look like he belongs to anyone but Rick. He-
Daryl wakes up in a cold sweat, chest aching. He can still feel hands, hands everywhere. Clawing at his back, at his legs, at his chest. They won't go away, he wants them to go away. He needs to get clean, get the feel of those wretched hands off of him, and the only way for him to do that is if he heads for the shower.
He sits up, frantically searching the room for a sign that anyone witnessed what had happened. There's no sound, so Daryl must not have woken anyone up. Thank god. This isn't his first nightmare since the attack and he's lucky no one witnessed it.
Daryl isn't sure what time it is but the cell block is still pitch black and the sky outside is dark, so he knows it's late. He listens for the sound of anyone moving down below. After a few seconds he stands up and peaks over the railing. It's empty, Rick must have gotten Judith to fall asleep and gone back to bed. He's itching to look in on them, make sure everything's okay, but Rick's such a light sleeper he knows the second he steps into the room Rick'll wake up and that's the last thing he wants.
So he moves out of the cell block, glancing back once he's out of the room to make sure he hadn't woken anyone up. After a few seconds of no sound Daryl makes his way towards the showers, trying his hardest not to wake anyone up. He doesn't hear a sound, doesn't see anybody on his way, and Daryl can't help but admit he's glad.
The showers are empty when he arrives, not surprising considering the time, and Daryl quickly strips out of his clothes. He wants to take a long hot scalding shower, something he can't do with the resources that they have. Not that he's complaining. He gets the shower going and lets the water run over him.
The feeling of hands on his sticky skin doesn't leave, he can feel them as they stroke their way up his back and down his thighs. Daryl has to fight back the urge to vomit. He doesn't know how long he stands there, how long he lets the water run down his back, but soon enough Daryl finds himself on the ground. His mind has wandered to things he really doesn't want to think about right now and he knows he's dangerously close to a flashback.
Daryl curls up in a ball on the cold tile, knees pulled to his chest in a way that's supposed to protect himself. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut tightly in hopes to keep out the images that threaten to cloud his mind. Soon enough he realizes he's crying, long gut wrenching sobs wracking his frame, and he really hopes nobody can hear him breaking down.
He just wants to go back, back to before he was taken by the Governor, when he and Rick where gonna try for their own pup. He wants to tell himself no, you can't go on the run, nobody can go on the run because the damn Governor has been looking for ways to hurt Rick. He wants to go curl up in Rick's arms and tell him he hurts and that he's scared and that Rick's presence is the only thing that can make Daryl feel even remotely better. He wants to tell Rick that he feels disgusting and used and unwanted, that he feels like he's betrayed him and he'll never understand how Rick can possibly still want to be around him after everything he's done.
After a few minute of Daryl curled up on the cold tile, he starts to shake. His skin is freezing cold, nearly numb, and he knows he should go back to his perch. He stands up, turns off the water, and makes his way over towards the mirror. Daryl can see himself, see every inch of his body, and he absolutely hates everything he sees.
His torso is covered in mottled bruises in various different shades of healing. Most of them are an ugly yellowish green color and Daryl can't stand to look at them. There's cuts littering his body, marring his flesh even more than it already is, and he's sure they're going to leave some ugly scars. Just more reasons why he should be ashamed of how his body looks.
The Governor had used his knife to cut into Daryl's skin, leaving words and various symbols carved into him. Hershel's not sure how well some of them are going to heal, but he did say a majority of them would heal with no scar. Daryl hadn't seen every word the Governor had carved into his skin as he was doing it, but now with him standing in front of a mirror he can see every last one of them.
The word whore is crudely written at the base of Daryl's throat, the marks are already starting to fade and Hershel is fairly certain that there won't be any sort of scar left behind. There's other words as well, the Governor had had a hell of a time carving into his skin, but after two weeks they're already starting to fade into nothing.
The real problem is the word carved into the space just under his collarbone. The Governor had taken his time on this one, carefully carving every letter into his flesh. Daryl knows he had wanted that one to scar, had wanted to leave his mark on Daryl's skin, leave him with the memory of everything that he'd done to him. When Hershel had told him it was going to scar, Daryl had begged Hershel to do something to fix it, to make it go away, but Hershel had looked at him with such sadness Daryl knew there was nothing Hershel would ever be able to do to make it go away. Daryl would have the word knot slut carved into the skin under his collar, the spot opposite the side of Rick's claim mark, for the rest of his life.
Daryl starts retching, stomach dry heaving as it attempts to spill his stomach's contents. There's nothing there, nothing he's going to be able to throw up anyway, and Daryl just lets his body heave. How was he supposed to tell Rick that he'd have the mark of another alpha on his body for the rest of his life? How was he ever supposed to take his shirt off in front of his mate when there was a clear sign of all the hell the Governor had put him through staring him in the face?
Bile rises in his throat and he prays to god this isn't what he knows it could be, he doesn't know what he'd do if that were to happen. Daryl had told Hershel everything that had happened to him, including what the Alphas had done to him, and he'd only confirmed Daryl's worst fears. There's a very real chance he could start carrying. After all, he'd been fucked by multiple Alphas in the midst of his heat. Daryl had told Hershel that none of them had knotted him, but he said it didn't matter. He'd been raped repeatedly by multiple guys and there's a good chance some of their seed had stuck.
Daryl can't do this anymore, can't stand here like this anymore. He scrubs his body dry with a towel, roughly rubbing at his skin until it's raw and hurting, before he pulls his clothes back on. He doesn't know how long he's been gone, doesn't know how long it is until people will start waking up, so he carefully makes his way back to his perch.
Daryl lays in bed, unable to sleep. His body hurts, he's cold, and he's fucking terrified of what could happen. He can feel his body start to crave the comfort of his Alpha, and despite how awkward and terrifying the prospect of going to Rick is to him right now, Daryl can't fight the urge. It's been nearly two weeks since they've shared a bed and all Daryl wants right now is to be enveloped in his embrace. His omega instincts are in need of comfort from his Alpha, and there's no way he's going to be able to deny himself much longer.
Daryl gets up and makes his way towards Rick's cell. He's quiet, the last thing he wants is to wake anyone else up. When he makes it to Rick's cell, he slowly pushes aside the curtain and steps inside. First thing he does is check on Judith. She's asleep in her crib, eyes moving back and forth slowly beneath her eyelids. Daryl notices her blanket's slipped some so he carefully pulls it up a little so it's completely covering her once again. Once he's sure she's safe and comfortable, Daryl turns to call out Rick's name but there's no need. He's already awake.
"I didn't want to wake you," Daryl says softly, not meeting Rick's eyes. "I had a, well I just, I don't know, maybe I should just go." Daryl stumbles on his words, embarrassed, and he turns around, hell-bent on just going back to his mattress to lay in silence.
"Daryl," Rick says, reaching forward to grip Daryl's wrist gently. He almost expects to jump at the touch but this is Rick, Rick's hands, and the second his skin meets Daryl's he feels all the worry he's got bottled up inside of him start to melt away. "You okay?" he asks softly.
Daryl opens his mouth to say yeah, of course, but the words get stuck in his throat. The truth is he's far from okay. Daryl swallows hard, hands wringing in front of him. He doesn't know what to say, how to broach the subject, and once again he regrets even coming here in the first place. Rick must be able to sense what Daryl's thinking because he just smiles sadly and pulls back the blanket far enough so that Daryl can slip in underneath it.
Daryl slides into the familiar position next to his mate. He doesn't say anything, he's not really sure if he should even say anything, but Rick's okay with that. Rick doesn't touch him and Daryl can tell it's because Rick doesn't want to freak him out, not because he's repulsed. Rick watches as Daryl shifts his body slightly, maneuvering into a position that's comfortable for him.
Daryl hurts everywhere, and all he wants is the comforting touch of his mate. Rick seems to catch on because he turns over so he's lying on his back. He's not forcing Daryl's hand, Rick's just letting Daryl know that he's comfortable with whatever Daryl wants. Daryl doesn't know how he could possibly have been lucky enough to get someone like Rick Grimes as his mate.
Daryl doesn't do anything for a few seconds, but Rick's seems to be okay with that. He's absolutely comfortable with whatever Daryl needs, and he's going to wait patiently while Daryl prepares himself. After a few more minutes, Daryl finally gets up the courage to scoot over enough so his head is resting on Rick's shoulder.
This is the best Daryl's felt in a long damn time. It's been way too long since he's been this close to Rick and Daryl's missed it more than he's willing to admit. He's finally starting to relax and right now all he wants is Rick's arms around him. Rick must have picked up on that because it's not long after Daryl thinks it that Rick moves his hand so it's resting on his back.
Daryl hasn't felt this good since before the attack. He feels safe and comfortable and he can't believe it. He's been denying himself the comfort of his Alpha for almost two weeks now, and now that he's in Rick's arms his body is starting to finally relax. All the horrible feelings he's been feeling fade away and he's so glade he's doing this.
Hesitantly Rick's hands start to smooth up and down Daryl's back, not sure what he was comfortable with receiving, and when Daryl doesn't say anything Rick keeps doing it. Daryl can feel his eyes start to shift closed. He hasn't slept more than a few hours a day since before he was taken, and his lack of sleep is starting to catch up with him.
"What do you need from me?" Rick whispers, voice so soft Daryl can barely hear it.
Daryl doesn't want to say it, doesn't think he can say it, doesn't think he deserves to say it. He's been such a shitty omega these past weeks, he doesn't really get the right to ask his Alpha for anything.
But this is Rick, his Rick, and right now all he wants is his arms around him. "Just hold me," Daryl whispers. "Please."
He doesn't even care if it makes him sound like a pussy, he just wants to feel Rick's arms around him right now. Daryl's been denying himself any sort of comfort since the attack, and right now all he wants is for his Alpha to show him he still cares even after everything that's happened.
"Of course," Rick says, voice not even hesitating. Rick's hands tighten around his back slightly and Rick slowly moves a hand up and down Daryl's back, soothing Daryl's aching body. Rick's voice starts to hum softly. There's no words, just soft sounds, and Daryl's eyes are already starting to shift close. Daryl realizes how much he's missed the sound of Rick softly humming to him as his eyes start to drift shut. "I've got you."