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

Unfortunately, I don't own the Walking Dead.


Chapter 10

Present

Rick and Michonne kept an eye on the approaching vehicle for a few minutes while Daryl stayed on the bed. Rick could tell that the hunter seemed to be very worried and maybe even scared. Before the Governor destroyed the prison and took him, it was usually difficult to tell how Daryl was feeling when something like that was happening. But today, it was different.

Fortunately, after the jeep had slowed down in front of the motel, it speeded up again and disappeared in the darkness.

"We're safe for now they're gone," Michonne said, sighing with relief.

"I'm just hoping they won't turn around and come back," Rick added, relaxing a little as well. "Are you okay?" he asked Daryl, sitting on the bed next to the hunter.

"Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm perfectly fine…" the redneck assured obviously exasperate. "And stop asking me that."

Surprise by Daryl's reaction, Rick gave a quick look toward Michonne who seemed to be worried about their friend as well.

"You can both get some sleep, I take the next watch," the redneck proposed, standing up.

"No, I won't be able to sleep for a while and you need more rest than we do," Michonne argued, her arms crossed over her chest.

Rick nodded and went to lie on the other bed without saying a word. Sighing, Daryl laid back on the bed thinking that the woman wouldn't change her mind even if he protested.


About three hours later, Daryl and Rick woke up, the sun was already raising in the horizon. Michonne was waiting for them at the table with a can of cold soup that she separated in three plastic glasses. They ate in silence and when they were done, they searched the motel a last time and gathered everything they thought could be practical. They packed the car and took the road.

After less than ten miles they drove into a small car blockade. Rick, who sat in the front in the passenger seat, got out to take a look at the size of the obstruction. There were only five or six cars, and to their luck no walkers around.

"We can get through," the former officer informed when he came back to his friends. "We may have two or three cars to move. It won't take long."

Agreeing, Michonne took her katana and Daryl a rifle. They joined Rick who was standing in front of the first vehicle, a blue SUV, blocking the road.

"It's gonna be easier to move it this way," Rick said, showing a space between to other cars. He walked to the side of the car and positioned himself to push.

Without thinking about his recent injuries, Daryl pushed on the SUV next to Michonne while Rick was taking care of the direction using the wheel.

"Arghh, fuck!" the hunter complained, walking a bit away and bending over in pain.

"Are you okay?" the black woman asked. She released the car and patting the redneck's back lightly.

"I'm fine," Daryl assured, harshly, moving away from Michonne's touch. "I'm sorry…I ain't able to help you…" he added, angry at himself for his own weakness.

"Don't worry we can take care of it," Rick assured. "It will be safer if someone keeps an eye around."

Sighing, Daryl walked to a black truck and with a grunt, climbed in the back. Perched up there, he had better view of their surroundings.

Michonne and Rick were moving the last vehicle when they heard a gun being fired. Quickly, Daryl searched where it was coming from, when another bullet was shot and touched his arm, making him drop his rifle. To protect him the redneck lied in the back of the truck and took a look at his new injury. It didn't seem to be very deep but it was bleeding.

"Daryl, are you shot?" Rick asked from behind a car where Michonne and he were hidden.

"No, the bullet just grazed me," he informed, thinking about his next move.

"Daryl, can you see where it was coming from?" Michonne demanded.

Carefully, the redneck crawled until he could look by the truck window. He could distinguish movement at the edge of the woods about fifty meters away and after a few seconds three armed figures appeared followed by a jeep. It didn't take long before he recognised who it was.

"Fuck, Martinez," he cursed in a murmur.

Suddenly, the apparition of the Hispanic man remained Daryl of everything that happened with the Governor. He could feel a mix of fear and rage rising inside of him and soon felt trapped in the back of that truck, unable to move. "What are we gonna do now?" he thought, looking at the three men coming his way.


Flashback (group)

After two days spent at an abandoned house in the old Woodbury, Michonne was feeling better and was ready to get back on the mission to find Daryl. While she was resting, Rick and Tyreese searched every place they could find around and gathered everything they thought could be useful. Ethan, the young man who was part of the Governor's group, spent the entire time tied up with duct tape; no one trusted him enough. He was their only chance to find Daryl faster, but they didn't want to take any risk.

The third morning, Rick, Michonne and Tyreese took the car and got back to the road, following the directions from Ethan who sat in the back with the black man. The young man was very scared, not only because they were threaten him to hurt him if he wasn't cooperative but also because he was leading the Governor's enemies to him. He was sure his boss wouldn't appreciate.

"You have to know that he's probably going to kill you all," Ethan warned when they pulled over to take a short break after about three hours of drive. "And he'll do it, after he tortures and kills your friend Daryl right in front of you."

"So, you're sure he's still alive?" Michonne demanded, leaning against the car.

"Well, like I said the first time, he was alive when I left a few days ago."

After a few minutes, they got back on the car and after a while, they took a dirt road leading in the forest.

"Are you sure it's the good way?" Rick asked slowing down the car.

"Yep," Ethan answered without hesitation. "The road is leading to the villa."

"And that 'villa' of yours, is it well protected?" Tyreese demanded.

"Yes. It's an old manor sitting in the middle of a huge courtyard surrounded by high walls made of bricks."

"Wonderful!" Michonne murmured, shaking her head.

"How far?" Rick asked.

"Maybe one or two miles…"

"Okay, we're going pull over here," the former officer informed turning and taking a small route heading in the woods. He stopped when he was sure the car was out of sight. "I don't want to take any chance to be caught."

They got out of the vehicle and gathered everything they thought they could need: weapons of course, but also rope, duct tape, water and a first aid kit. They decided it would be safer to reach the villa by walking in the forest.

The sun was low in the horizon when they began to distinguish the wall through the woods. They were about ten – fifteen minutes away from the courtyard when they decided to stop a moment.

"Tyreese, you stay here with the kid; I'll go take a look with Michonne," Rick proposed.

But they didn't have the time to say something about it because they heard a cry of pain coming from the other side of the wall.

"Oh my god; it's Daryl!" Michonne panicked, ready to run to him.

"Wait…" Rick stopped her, grabbing her arm. "We don't know what's going over there and we have no idea of how many people are on watch. If we get hurt or even kill before saving him, it won't help him!"

The woman nodded; she knew he was right. They needed a plan.

"We need to see what's going on first. So I'll go take a look with Michonne. Are you okay to stay here, Ty?"

"Yea, I'll keep an eye on him," Tyreese agreed, glancing toward Ethan.

Rick and Michonne got their weapons ready and headed carefully to the wall. When they reached the wall, they climbed it by using the bricks and stones as stairs. When they arrived at the top and took a look at the courtyard they both gasped; Daryl was on his knees and his hands were chained to a pole in the middle of the yard. He was facing the Governor who had something that looked like a knife in one hand while Martinez was pacing next to them playing with a baseball bat. The two men seemed to be really upset.

"We need to get him out to there!" Michonne whispered, anger and worry obvious in her voice.

"Yes, I know."

Rick couldn't let Daryl suffer like that. But looking at the situation, he knew that saving him wouldn't be an easy task. Since they didn't know anything about the Governor's plans with Daryl, they couldn't wait any longer to get him out of there. In the morning, they might find him dead.


Flashback (Daryl)

When Daryl woke up, the room smelt awful. He was surrounded by total darkness so he couldn't see anything, but he guessed that the bodies of the two men were still there. With difficulty, he sat up and leaned his back carefully against the wall. At first, the contact of his beaten flesh with the bricks was a bit painful but after a few seconds, the coldness of the wall felt good on his wounds. Daryl could feel that he was hungry but the odour coming from the corpses was giving him nausea even with his empty stomach. He remembered that the Governor had said something about Martinez bringing him food but he was scared to throw up after the first bite. So he decided to wait until he got used to the smell.

Daryl was beginning to forget the terrible odour when the door was being unlocked and opened. As soon as Martinez passed the doorframe, he protected his mouth and nose with his hand.

"Damn it Dixon, you stink!" he said, pointing his flashlight at the redneck who looked back at him with daggers.

Martinez put the flashlight down on the floor and used the blue bandana he had around his neck to cover his nose and mouth. He grabbed matches from his pocket and lighted up the oil lamp.

"You didn't eat anything?" he noted, looking at the untouched bowl and bottle of water about a meter away in front of the prisoner. "Philip won't be happy…"

"Like I give a shit!"

"Well, it seems like you're in a good mood this afternoon!" Martinez teased, approaching Daryl who was still sitting against the wall. "I'm going to take you out of the room so you're going to be able to eat something."

"Why do you care?"

"Because you'll need to regain some strength for tonight."

"What's going on tonight?" Daryl asked, curious to know what the Governor had planned for him.

"There will be a big party in the yard, and you're invited!" Martinez explained. "On your knees and let me cuff you. If you piss me off, I'll knock you out and chain you to your two dead friends over there. Understand?"

Daryl didn't say anything but did slowly what he was told. With difficulty, he managed to kneel and to put his hands on his head. His entire body was hurting him so he couldn't stop the few moans of pain escaping his lips. Martinez decided to cuff his hands in front of him, so when it was done his ankle released, Martinez helped him stand up. The Hispanic man also grabbed the bowl and the bottle.

"There, carry your stuff. We can't waste food."

Martinez leaded Daryl upstairs and in the backyard. He chained the redneck to the metal rail of the small balcony and sat down on the stair.

"Now, eat!" the Hispanic man ordered, pointing at the bowl.

Being outside in the fresh air made Daryl realised how much he was hungry and thirsty. So, without hesitation, he sat down in the grass and ate the portion of cold oatmeal, the small piece of dry meat and drank the entire bottle of water. Even if the air was cold, making the redneck shiver, he thought it was feeling better than being trapped between four walls and imprisoned with two corpses.

"Dixon, you really look like shit!" Martinez noted when Daryl had finished eating. "I think you need a bath."

The redneck looked at the other man and frowned. He didn't know what he really meant by 'bath' but he was pretty sure it wasn't something pleasant.

"On your knees I'm going to take you over there and chain you to the pole," Martinez explained, pointing at the circle of poles where Daryl had been beaten up a few days ago.

The redneck complied without putting a fight; he knew there was no chance he could win. After the Hispanic man had chained his handcuffs to the pole, he walked away, leaving the hunter alone.

"What about that bath?" Daryl teased, sliding down along the pole and sitting on the grass.

"Don't worry…I'll be back in a moment."

The food and the water had given some strength to Daryl and he was feeling a bit better. Yes, his entire body was sore and he was cold, but at least, he wasn't feeling like he was going to pass out at any moment. He examined his handcuffs, the chain and the pole and wondered if he would have a chance to escape before Martinez return. But deep down he knew that even if he managed to untie himself, he wouldn't be able to get really far. The gate and the walls were still well guarded by several people and there were probably plenty of walkers waiting on the outside that he wasn't strong enough to fight. He looked at the house from where Martinez appeared with two big plastic buckets. When he was closer, Daryl noted water leaking out of them. At this moment, he figured out what his bath would be.

"Do you want to stand up first?" the Hispanic man asked when he had put down the buckets on the ground.

"You're joking, right? It's cold outside and I'm freezing already."

"It's not my problem."

On this, Martinez picked one bucket and splashed the water on Daryl who was still sat on the grass without giving him time to react.

"FUCK YOU!" the redneck yelled, standing out. He was furious; the water felt ice cold on his skin.

But without waiting any longer, Martinez grabbed the other bucket and threw the water at him again.

"Now, I think you look better," the Hispanic man said, walking away and laughing out loud, ignoring the hunter's complaints.

Daryl was already frozen; he was shivering and his teeth were chattering. His clothes were soaked and they would never dry if he stayed outside. Since his hands were in cuffs, it wasn't easy to rub his body to warm himself up. So Daryl decided to try to move as much as possible but the chain was preventing him to walk more than one meter on each side of the pole. The sun was setting when the Governor and Martinez, a baseball bat in hand, got out of the house and walked toward him.

"How are you doing, Daryl?" the taller man asked. "Do you need anything?"

"Nope…I don't know what makes you think I need something," Daryl hissed between his chattering teeth, pacing in front of the two men.

"It looks like you're a bit cold," the Governor noted with a mocking tone.

"Of course I'm cold! That asshole over there splashed me with a bucket of ice!" the redneck pointed out angrily, stopping his movement. "What did you expect?!"

"Do you really think it's the right way to talk to the man who feeds you?"

"Fuck you…both of you!"

It seemed like it was the only thing that Martinez was waiting for because as soon as the Governor glanced at him and nodded, the Hispanic man hit Daryl on the back with his bat making him fell flat on his stomach.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the redneck let out, trying to stand on his knees and hands before being hit again.

"You need to gain some respect for the people who take care of you!" the Governor explained, leaning down.

"Take care of me!? Are you kidding me?" Daryl managed to say between moans of pain. "Sons of a bitches, that's how you call torturing people!?"

The Governor shook his head, obviously unhappy with his prisoner's behaviour.

"Turn him on his back and hold him," the tall man ordered, taking his knife out of his sheath.

Martinez nodded and, grabbing Daryl by the shoulders rolled him over until he was sitting between his legs. The redneck was struggling as much as he could, but he wasn't strong enough to get out of the other man's restrain. The Governor moved closer and sat on Daryl's legs to keep him in place.

"It looks like I need to teach you a lesson again!" the one eyed man said, sighing. "How about reopening that wound!?"

Without waiting for an answer, the Governor stabbed Daryl in the thigh exactly where he had cut him a few days ago, tearing up the stitches in the process.

The moment the blade entered his wounded flesh, the redneck let out a scream of pain and tried to fight back again. But the more he was moving, the more the pain in his thigh was increasing.

When he was sure the wound was totally reopen, the Governor removed his knife, whipped it on Daryl's pants and put it back in his sheath. He stood up and looked with satisfaction at the blood leaking out of the wound and soaking the fabric.

"Put him on his knees," he demanded, crossing his arms on his chest.

Ignoring the groans of pain, Martinez forced Daryl to kneel in front of his boss and let go of him when he was sure he would stay still.

"Tonight after dinner every member of our group, including the kids, will be outside in the yard," the Governor explained. "You remember the arena we had in Woodbury, where you had to fight with your brother?"

At the mention of his brother, Daryl felt a kind of knot in his stomach. He hadn't thought about Merle for a while and he realised that even if it had been a while since he had to put him down, it was still painful to think about him.

"Well, we'll be doing something like that," the Governor continued. "We're teaching the children how to defend themselves against the livings. And I thought they can practice with you. Since they are already afraid of you, it's gonna be scarier for them to stand in front of you."

"You want me to fight with kids!? You're completely crazy!"

"And of course, Martinez will be there to teach them a few lessons using you as well and make sure you follow my orders," the Governor added, ignoring Daryl's comment. "I'll let you bleed for a while to make sure you don't have too much strength later so you can be easier to control. I'll send someone later to stitch you up."

On these words, the two men moved away and disappeared into the house.

Putting pressure on his bleeding thigh, Daryl sat down with a grunt and leant his back against the pole. His leg hurt him a lot and it felt like he had a big bruise on his back. He was still cold and couldn't feel the tip of his fingers anymore. Looking at the blood leaking between his fingers, he knew he wouldn't stay conscious for long. Daryl was going to close his eyes when he caught movement over the wall. He looked more carefully but he couldn't distinguish anything because it was too dark. He just hoped it wasn't a walker because he wasn't really in the state to defend himself.


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