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 13

Present

After Michonne and Rick had taken care of Daryl's wound they wrapped a clean cloth around it. The redneck went to the small river running a few meters away from the road to get rid of the blood covering his face, his arms and his clothes. When he didn't return after about thirty minutes, Rick decided to go take a look at his friend.

"Daryl, are you okay?" the former officer asked when he spotted the hunter sat on a big rock, his back to him.

"I'm fine…" Daryl answered in a low voice, barely loud enough to be heard by the other man. He was still and looking at the water splashing his boots. He needed to be alone for a while and Rick's presence wasn't welcome.

Knowing it wasn't the truth Rick walked closer and sat on a fallen tree a few feet away from his friend. He knew Daryl's problem with proximity, so he decided to give him space.

"I know you're not…With what happened back there…"

"Martinez? Ain't a big deal; ain't like I never killed a man before," the hunter assured, keeping his eyes on the river.

"I (don't mean about) killing him," Rick specified, not knowing how to bring the topic. "About what he said…"

"Ain't a big deal either," Daryl said trying to sound detached even if he felt uncomfortable. He just hoped that his friend would buy it and drop the subject.

"I don't know what part of what Martinez said was true," the former officer declared, looking at the hunter to see his reaction. "But it can't be taken lightly, Daryl."

"Stop!" the redneck hissed, standing up and taking a few steps to increase the distance between them.

Daryl knew that Rick just wanted to help him and make sure he was okay, but he wasn't the type to share his feelings. And he couldn't bear the thought of Rick seeing him as a victim; he didn't need pity from his best friend. So he decided to walk away, but he knew it was childish.

"You don't have to hide from me," Rick assured, noticing that Daryl hadn't looked at him in the eyes since he had gotten into the truck. "Nothing gonna change what I think of you."

"So, why are you bringing this up, then?" the redneck demanded a bit harshly.

"Because I want you to know that you're not alone…If something's wrong or if you need to talk…"

"Thanks, but I'm fine."

"Daryl…"

"Rick," Daryl said, finally turning around and facing his friend. "That bastard tortured me; there's nothing surprising about it. So let me be."

"He didn't just torture you; rape was a war crime before all of this," the former officer explained.

"We ain't living in a civilized world anymore, Rick," the hunter reminded. "And the Governor did nothing I couldn't handle."

"But it doesn't look like you're handle it very well," Rick remarked.

"Stop!" Daryl hissed, impatient. "I've been subject to the exact same thing before; there was nothing new. I dealt with it in the past and I'm still alive, so drop it, Rick."

"But…"

"Come on, Michonne's probably wondering what we're doing," the redneck supposed, heading toward the road and leaving Rick behind him.

They took the car and drove for about two hours without saying a word. Michonne was behind the wheel and even if she knew that the men had something in mind, she didn't say anything.

Rick was sitting next to her in the passenger seat and was lost in his thoughts. He couldn't stop thinking about what Daryl had said and was beginning to understand a lot of the redneck's behaviour and personality. He knew that his friend had been subject to violence from his father when he was a kid but he never thought that he could have been victim of sexual abuses as well. He didn't understand why adults would want to hurt children; it was something he would never be able to accept.

Daryl was lying on his back in the back seat and was drifting in and out of sleep. He was really tired after losing so much blood again but he couldn't stop thinking about the conversation he had with Rick. He was hoping what his friend told him was true; everything that happened to him wouldn't change what Rick was thinking of him.

"It's getting dark," Michonne noted when they entered a small town. "We should stop for the night."

Rick nodded and they drove into a small street. They pulled over behind a small white house.

"I'll go take a look," Daryl announced, getting out of the car without giving time to his friends to react.

"Wait!" Rick called.

Sighing, he looked at Michonne who shrugged and grabbed her katana before getting out of the car as well. When they joined the hunter, he was already inside inspecting the kitchen.

"Daryl, you should have waited for us," Rick remarked. He sat on the couch next to the hunter after they were sure the house was secured. "You're not really in shape to fight."

"Ain't as bad as it looks," the redneck assured, slowly getting pissed. "And nothing happened, right?"

"Maybe this time, but what if there were walkers inside or other survivors, bad ones?" the former officer demanded.

"I would have handled them," Daryl said, shrugging.

"I doubt you can handle that many important things by yourself!"

"Fuck you, Grimes!" the hunter let out, standing up. "Do you think I'm weak? That I'm just a victim now? You said that nothing had changed!"

"Nothing had changed!" Rick repeated with a calm voice. "We just want to help, Daryl. We didn't want anything to happen to you. It's why we came to rescue you."

"What about Tyreese then? He wasn't important enough; is that why he's dead?" Daryl lashed out. "And now he is dead, for what? To save me! You shouldn't have come; you should have let me die there!"

The redneck had totally lost his self –control. It was like all the anger he had accumulated was now getting out. He knew what happened with the Governor, with Martinez and the death of Tyreese weren't Rick's or Michonne's fault but he couldn't help it; he had to let it all out.

Michonne was looking at the two men and didn't understand what was happening and why Daryl was suddenly so angry. She remembered a few weeks ago that he was sometimes talking about himself like he wasn't worth it. But it had been a while now since he had talked this way.

"You don't really think of what you just said!" Rick said, feeling his voice rising as well. "With Tyreese, it was an accident; he wanted to be there. You really think we would have let you been tortured and raped until you die!?"

"Thanks to bring this up again," Daryl murmured, shaking his head before getting out of the living room.

Michonne and Rick heard him climbing up the stair and closing the door of a room on the first floor.

"What was that about?" the woman asked, giving a suspicious look to his friend.

"Don't look at me like that!" Rick said, raising his hands in defense. "We had a talk, back there, at the river. We discussed what the Governor did to him."

"And it didn't go well!?"

"Not really. He doesn't want to talk about it. He said he could handle it, that it was not a big deal."

"Of course, he's Daryl Dixon. You know he doesn't like to talk about himself and how he feels."

"I know, but I just want him to know that we're here if he needs it," Rick explained, leaning back in the couch. "You know he had been beaten up by his father when he was a kid?"

"Yea, his old man was a real bastard."

"Daryl had been abused sexually as well…"

"He told you?" Michonne asked, surprised.

"Yea, he did."

"There's nothing enough 'yurk' in the world!"

When Michonne woke up in the morning, she went to check on Daryl. But when she opened the door of the bedroom, it was empty. So, quickly, she searched him in the rest of the house but couldn't find him anywhere. Standing in the middle of the living room, she glanced outside and spotted the redneck sat in the stairs of the front porch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Hey, you're okay?" she asked, joining him outside and figuring out why he had a blanket; it was cold.

"Mmmm," he muffled, keeping his back to her.

Michonne sat down next to him and realised he had a jar of peanut butter and a spoon in hands.

"No way! Peanut butter! Where did you find that?" she demanded, excited, realising suddenly how much she was hungry.

"In the basement, there's a small room where they were keeping some supplies," Daryl explained. "There's not much, but there's enough to last for a few days."

"Do you mind sharing?" Michonne asked, licking her lips at the thought.

Grunting, the hunter handed her the jar and the spoon. The moment the peanut butter touched her tongue, the woman moaned with delight.

"Mmmm, that's good!"

They stayed silent for a moment while Michonne ate a few spoonfuls of peanut butter before stopping to keep the rest for Rick. When the wind blew a little stronger, the black woman shivered a little. So Daryl gave her the blanket.

"What are you doing outside by the way?" she asked, wondering why someone would want to leave the safety of the house to freeze outside.

"I couldn't sleep anymore and I needed fresh air," Daryl explained, taking a deep breath. "So I took Rick's watch."

"Are you both okay?" Michonne demanded, hating to see her friends fighting with each other.

"Yea, think so. I told him I was sorry."

The redneck didn't seem to be angry anymore. He was now chewing at his finger nail something he did when he was anxious, but at least, he was calm. So Michonne decided to take advantage of the situation to find out how his friend was holding up.

"I'm really sorry for what happened back there. We should have found you sooner."

"Naw, don't worry about that," Daryl assured, shrugging. "It's over now."

"Maybe, but you still had a very hard time back there."

"Yea, but it's good that it happened to me and not one of you; I can deal with it."

"Rick told me that it wasn't anything new for you," Michonne risked, hoping she wasn't going too far. "With what happened when you were a kid…"

"Yea, I guess it helped me get through everything the Governor had in store for me," Daryl supposed after a few seconds of reflection. He didn't like where the conversation was heading but he didn't have the energy to get away from it and Michonne.

"I knew about your father and the beating…but…I didn't know about…well…that he went that far…" Michonne managed to say after searching for the good words but without finding them.

"He didn't," the redneck stated like it was obvious. "My old man gave me a hard time but he never touched me that way…"

"Oh, sorry…I thought that…"

"His friends did…I was sixteen…They kept saying that they liked my blue eyes…They wanted to see more…Thought they could have some fun…"

"And your father, he didn't stop them?"

"He was too drunk…Happened a few times…Always when he was passed out on the couch… Merle was in juvie again…When my old man found out, he told them to never do this to me again. He started calling me 'faggot' but at least, they stopped. Probably the only good thing he did for me in my whole life."

Daryl didn't know why he had decided to talk about his past; it had never happened that way before. Very often, he had heard people saying that when you talked about something that was bothering you, it made you feel better afterward. But at this moment, Daryl thought it wasn't true, because he wasn't feeling better at all; he felt like shit. Suddenly, he felt too exposed; he shouldn't have shared that much with Michonne.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl," the woman murmured, wanting to taking him in her arms but knowing it was not a good idea.

"Don't bother," he said, standing up and grabbing the riffle he had put behind him. He wasn't feeling comfortable; he had to be alone. "There's a shed back there, I'm going to see if I can find something useful."

Speechless, Michonne kept her eyes on the hunter until he disappeared at the corner of the house.

At of sudden, she heard a noise behind her. She turned around quickly to find Rick standing in the doorway. By the look on his face, she knew he had heard the conversation she just had with Daryl.

When Daryl came back into the house, Rick and Michonne had already packed the food from the supply room and everything else that could be useful in bags and a large plastic box.

"Ready to go?" Rick asked when the hunter joined them in the kitchen.

"Yep! Found two shovels, an axe and half a can of gas in the shed. I put them in the car."

Rick nodded and grabbed the heavy box. Michonne picked up two bags while Daryl took the other one. They packed the car and got back on the road.

They drove for about three hours without any incident when Rick turned on a small street. They kept going until the end of the road where a yard and a large building were surrounded by fences. They got out of the car and they distinguished two people walking in their direction.

"They're back!" they heard a familiar voice announced out loud with enthusiasm. "Daryl's with them!"

Maggie and Glenn approached the gate with a big smile on their face followed by Carl who was running behind, holding his sheriff hat to keep it from falling off. They saw a few other figures coming out by a door and coming their way.

After a few weeks away, they were back home.

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