CHAPTER 50

Daryl

Daryl sat slouched in the corner of their room, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, and rubbed absentmindedly at his purpling knuckles.

In the dim light of dawn he watched Kate sleep, blissfully unaware that he'd just beat the shit out of her boss. He sighed heavily, subconsciously trying to expel the heaviness in his chest. He'd made a mess of everything and now they'd want him gone. Even if they could convince Deanna he and Glenn had nothing to do with Aiden's death, Pete was sure to show up in the morning with a fucked up face and a story to tell about how he was just innocently sitting on his porch when Daryl came along.

I just hope when they kick you out you have the decency to let Kate stay.

It was hard to not keep returning to Pete's words. It wasn't like Daryl hadn't thought of it on his own. Hadn't run that scenario through his head, but to hear Pete say it outloud validated it.

Daryl wouldn't make Kate leave with him, he had no right to ask her, but if he had to walk out those gates without her it would rip his heart out. He'd just assume feed himself to the walkers than try and live a life alone. He could've before, but now that he knew what it felt like not to be lonely, he wasn't interested in living that way again.

But he wouldn't ask her to leave the safety of the walls, the security of a roof over her head and food in her mouth - not to mention hot showers and a sense of normalcy. Kate was strong and resilient, if they lost their home to a greater force than his stupidity she could make it on the road. She had before and she could again, but to pull her away from this place where she was happy, where she finally felt safe and at home again, to make that his choice and not her's - he couldn't do that. Selfishly, he hoped she would still go with him. That she wouldn't let him go without her.

You know she doesn't need you anymore, right? She's safe here now, we'll take it from here.

Maybe she wouldn't though.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, slowly peeking through the slats of their windows. He didn't want to be here when the rest of Alexandria woke up to find their doctor bruised and bloody. He grabbed his crossbow and crept quietly out of the room.

Kate

Daryl and his crossbow were gone when she woke up. His spot on the bed, cold. She had a feeling he didn't sleep much last night. The memory of Aiden laying stiff and bloody in the infirmary brought a fresh wave of dread and sadness. She thought of the Monroe's waking up this morning to a nightmare and felt sick.

Alexandria seemed quieter than usual as she made her way up the short street from the house to the infirmary. There weren't any neighbors milling around. She could usually at least count on the dog walker or some of the construction crew crossing her path on their way to the wall, but it was like they were all in hiding. Aiden's death had reminded them that the world wasn't safe. This place they lived in, more a mirage than a reality.

Dr. Anderson was already in the infirmary, making notes in a binder he kept of all the patients they saw. She imagined he was writing about Aiden and Nicholas and wondered what details he was including and if she'd find her husband's name among them.

"Morning." She said quietly. He didn't like being interrupted when he was working and this morning she didn't really feel like talking.

Dr. Anderson raised his head at her voice and revealed a large, bloody gash over his right eye which was grotesquely swollen.

"Pete!" She winced. "What happened to you?"

It was early in the morning and she hadn't left the clinic until late last night. She couldn't imagine how he'd managed to collect such an injury in such a short amount of time.

"Pretty ugly, huh?" He replied sardonically. "Your boyfriend packs a punch."

Kate felt ice water dump into her veins. "Daryl? I don't understand."

Pete shook his head, "I don't either Kate."

"When?" She said, moving her head back and forth as if she could shake the confusion away and make sense of the situation. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" He asked incredulously. He huffed out an annoyed breath and looked back down at the notebook.

Kate knew Daryl had a temper, knew that he couldn't control his emotions very well, but she knew that he wouldn't do so unprovoked.

"I'll need you to clean it up for me." He said, not taking his eyes off his work. "I don't think it needs stitches, just steri-strips."

Kate nodded numbly and went about collecting the items she would need, wondering if he'd left the job to her so she could see the damage Daryl had done.

She wheeled one of the mismatched office chairs across the wooden floor and next to Pete who promptly shut the notebook and pushed it away. He turned in his chair to face her and she got to work.

After the dried blood was cleaned from the wound she could see that Pete was right, it didn't need stitches, but more concerning was the swollen and rapidly darkening eye.

"Can you see out of it ok?" She asked, gently pushing the two edges of the cut together.

"It's a little blurry." He said, wincing as she started to apply the first steri-strip.

"Sorry." She said, not bothering to stop and moving quickly to the next one. She could feel Pete's eyes on her face and she was suddenly aware of how close they were to one another. She could smell alcohol on his breath and she had an overwhelming urge to move away, let him close his own wound.

"Jessie wants me to tell Deanna." He said quietly. He was watching her so intently she felt claustrophobic. She dropped her hands to her side and pushed her chair away from his.

"Why?" She asked, hurt. If Jessie wanted them gone what chance did they have. The situation seemed hopeless.

"She thinks our family is in danger. First, someone threatens to feed her son to the walkers and now her husband is attacked in front of his home in the middle of the night. Can you blame her?"

He looked at her blankly. She didn't have an answer. Her mind tried desperately to imagine a scenario where Daryl would go to the Anderson's in the middle of night and do this to Pete. She scooted back up to him to finish closing the wound.

"So are you going to tell Deanna?" Kate asked in a quiet voice, trying to not betray her frustration.

"I don't want to. I don't want to give her any more reason to make your group leave, but Jessie wanted me to go today. She said if I don't, she would. She's my wife Kate, what can I do?"

Kate nodded. She finished the job in silence, afraid to even breathe too deeply for fear she wouldn't be able to remain composed. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Pete Anderson again.

"Maybe I could talk to her?" She suggested when she was positive she could eek out a sentence without crying or screaming.

"Actually, I would rather you not mention it to her. I told her I wouldn't say anything to you, but I felt I owed you a heads up so you'd have time to think about your decision."

"My decision?"

"To stay with us, or to go with him."

"I go where he goes."

"Kate, I don't pretend I know what it's like to have to survive outside of these walls, but I know it must be horrible. I get why you'd feel like you needed a man like him to survive, but you don't need him anymore. It is safe here. No one, not even Daryl, would blame you if you let him go without you."

She shook her head. "If he goes, I go."

The day moved along excruciatingly slow. They had half a dozen visits to the clinic that ranged from Mrs. Nuedemyer needing aspirin for a headache to Mr. Cline coming in because he was having chest pains. Every time someone came through the door she heard the reaction Pete's face brought. Everytime Kate held her breath, praying he wouldn't tell them it had been Daryl.

But Pete didn't mention him once. He would wave off the attention, make a joke about boxing a roamer or running into a door trying to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She was grateful that he didn't tell them what he had shared with her and she counted the hours and minutes until she could talk to Daryl and figure out what the hell had happened. What type of miscommunication could lead to such a stupid move on Daryl's part. She was confused, hurt, and angry.

It was around lunchtime when Jessie came in, carrying a covered dish and a sad smile.

"I just brought a casserole over to the Monroe's and I made extra, I thought you guys might want some for lunch." She put the dish on the counter and started opening cabinets in the kitchen in search of plates. "It's so heartbreaking to see Deanna like this."

Jessie found what she was looking for and as she scooped a helping of something warm and gooey onto a paper plate she talked casually, smiling at Kate. Acting like she didn't realize having them thrown out to the walkers wasn't a devastating request.

She handed a plate to Pete and squinted at her husband. "I'm glad you cleaned up your eye. It looks much better."

Pete snuffed doubtfully.

"Do you want me to fix you a plate Kate?" She asked, returning to the casserole dish and smiling.

Kate couldn't stand it, it was impossible to participate in the small talk when she felt like screaming. She had never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself and this seemed to be particularly important. Maybe even a matter of life and death. She knew Pete would be disappointed, but she couldn't worry about that now.

"Jessie," She started. "I'm so sorry for the things that have happened to your family since we've been here. I don't know what to say about it except that it isn't how we usually are. Please, I'm begging you, please don't make Pete go to Deanna about Daryl. I'll talk to him, I swear he won't touch him again."

"Kate don't." She heard Pete say around a mouthful of lunch, but she didn't stop and she didn't care.

Jessie looked perplexed. She let the full serving spoon drop back into her dish and turned towards Kate - a line of worry etched deeply between her eyes.

"Kate, I'm sorry, I don't know what youre talking about. Why would I have Pete talk to Deanna about Daryl?"

She glanced at her husband anxiously. He sat stone faced and silent.

"Because of what Daryl did to his face." Kate said hesitantly. "I understand why you would be worried, why you would want Deanna to do something...but we talked about him, you know he's not like he seems. It must have been a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?!" Pete bellowed, throwing his fork down on his plate. "A misunderstanding is when someone shows up for an appointment on the wrong day of the week. A misunderstanding is when two people bring the same dessert to a potluck. Look at my face! This wasn't a misunderstanding."

"Then he must have had a good reason." Kate shot back, turning angrily to Pete. She saw his face and her courage waned. "Or at least he thought he did."

Jessie looked pained. "Kate, I never said I wanted to talk to Deanna. I didn't even know Daryl did this." She looked sideways at her husband who was growing more agitated by the second. "I'm sorry Pete gave you that impression. I don't know what happened between the two of them, but as far as I'm concerned they can work it out on their own."

Kate eyed Pete distrustfully. "Why'd you tell me that Pete? I've been sick all day worrying that Jessie wanted us gone."

Pete's expression flattened. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, shook his head and let out a deep breath. When he looked back up the Pete Anderson smile was back on his face. "I guess my brain got rattled more than I thought. Geez, I'm sorry Kate. I definitely didn't want to worry you. I was confused."

Jessie stood pale and quiet, her features pinched and her eyes on the floor. Kate looked nervously between the two of them. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she didn't like it.

"So...you won't be talking to Deanna?"

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary." He smiled tightly. "Now that I think about it, my head is hurting a bit. I think it would probably be better if I went home and laid down. Can you hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Kate nodded. She had a feeling Dr. Anderson wasn't happy with her, but she didn't care. She felt a crisis had been averted. There was still the issue of Daryl, and what happened between him and Dr. Anderson, but with the immediate fear of Deanna Monroe being told she relaxed.

Daryl

When Daryl told Carol that Pete Anderson didn't remind him of his dad or Ed Peletier he was right. Those men didn't care if people liked them. In fact they made it their business to be as unlikable and ornery as possible. The only memory Daryl had of his dad genuinely smiling was when he'd won $15 on a scratcher he'd found on the ground at the gas station. He'd gone right in and cashed it in to buy a case of beer.

In the short time Daryl knew Ed Peletier the man only sneered. He'd heard about how Shane had kicked the shit out of him for slapping Carol around in front of him at the quarry, but Daryl didn't get to see Shane's work before Ed had been torn to pieces by one of the walkers that got into camp that night. He didn't even know it had happened until the farm. It was Carol who had told him about it, she told him without relish, without judgement of either man. During their time on the Greene's property Carol was a woman who had numbed herself to the rest of the world to get through the pain inside. Daryl knew that feeling and so he listened and thought about how he would've liked to be the one to beat the life out of Ed for laying a finger on a woman.

Carol knew about Daryl's past. She hadn't seen his back, but she saw his scars just the same. She had the same ones.

Daryl didn't know for sure if Carol was right about Pete Anderson abusing his family, but he knew he couldn't be trusted and the worst part about it was he was smarter than Ed Peletier and Will Dixon. It was very important to Pete that people like him, that people trust him, so when it came time to make him answer for his crimes, no one could imagine the smiling man that stitched up their wounds could possibly be guilty.

On the other hand, Daryl would easily fit into their definition of criminal.

Torturing himself with his thoughts, he'd made his way further from Alexandria than he'd ever ventured on his own. He stuck to the woods, downing walkers and keeping an eye out for something to track. In the end it was a flash of red that caught his eye, moving through the trees far in the distance.

At first Daryl couldn't believe it, to lose the man after days of tracking only to stumble across him closer to home and when he wasn't even looking. Would Deanna still allow someone in if Daryl was the person to bring him back?

The man in the pancho appeared to be injured, limping along slowly. He wouldn't make it long out here if he couldn't run and Daryl moved quickly, but quietly, along the forest floor. He wasn't going to let him slip away this time.

He was about 40 yards away when he realized something was off. Even for an injured person he was moving too slow, listing heavily to his left side. Coming to a stop, Daryl sent out a shrill whistle and the man in the red pancho turned around to reveal a slit throat and the letter 'W" carved crudely onto his forehead.

"Shit." Daryl said under his breath. The newly turned walker moved in Daryl's direction until the bolt was buried into its skull.

Kate

Holly's arm was slung up in a sweatshirt that was tied sloppily around her neck. She cried out in pain as one of the men from the construction crew helped her into the infirmary.

"I think her arms broke, you got this?" He grunted in Kate's direction, looking rather white and anxious to be anywhere but there.

Kate nodded robotically, not sure at all that she had this.

"Sorry Holly." He said, grimacing and headed out the door as fast as he'd come.

Kate turned back to the woman. "Ok Holly." She said, trying to sound brave and confident. "Let's take a look at this arm."

The woman, who Kate had talked to maybe twice, was pale and sweaty, her short brown hair sticking in clumps against her forehead.

Kate gingerly worked on the knot that held the sweatshirt onto Holly's shoulder. She tried her best to not jostle the injured arm, but Holly seemed unconcerned, staring glassy eyed into the distance.

With the knot untied, Kate gently pulled the sweatshirt away to reveal an arm that was bent at an unnatural angle. A hiss of air escaped through Kate's teeth and she instinctively covered the injury back up.

She looked around helplessly. This was beyond what she'd learned, she wasn't close to being capable of treating her.

"I'll be right back." She told Holly, pushing her gently back onto the pillow and pulling a blanket up to her neck. Kate didn't know if she was in shock or if she was in so much pain that silence was all she could manage. Either way, Kate needed Pete.

She tried to remain calm, for Holly's sake if not her own, but her nerves got the best of her and she broke out into a run as soon as she was out the door. She ran up the street towards the Anderson's where she found Sam sitting alone on the front porch.

"Sam! Where's your dad?" Kate asked, out of breath and frantic.

Sam looked up at her with wide and frightened eyes and the sound of shattering glass followed by Pete's angry voice erupted from the house behind him.

"What's going on Sam?"

He shook his head and looked like he was going to cry. Kate heard Jessie yelp painfully.

"Sam, is your dad hurting your mom?" He didn't answer. "SAM?!"

Kate looked wildly around the street, hoping that she'd see someone, anyone else. But the streets were as empty as they had been this morning.

"Sam, I need you to run and get some help, Do you know who Rick is? Michonne?"

Sam didn't answer, she didn't know if he'd get help or not, but she couldn't stand around and wait.

"Go get help Sam. Find someone." She said again firmly, taking the steps up to their house and entering without knocking.

At first she just saw Pete's back, clad in the same boring, sky blue, knit sweater he'd been wearing when he left the clinic, standing at the stove. For a minute she thought she'd misjudged the situation terribly and that he was just cooking something on the stove. She briefly even cursed Carol for planting such a suspicion in her mind. It was the sound that broke through the confusion, the strangled noise of a woman who was having the last breath stolen from her. Pete shifted his stance and Kate could see that he had Jessie pinned against the stove, her back contorting unnaturally as he pushed her backwards. His hands wrapped tightly around her neck, her face purple, her mouth stretched into a silent scream.

Kate moved without thought or plan, grabbing at the first object she could find, a frying pan soaking in the sink, bits of breakfast still sticking to it. She held it tightly and hit the side of his head as hard as she could, the slippery pan went flying out of her hand as it hit his skull. He stumbled, grabbing at his head in surprise as he wheeled around to meet his assailant. Jessie crumpled to the ground, choking and sputtering as oxygen filled her lungs.

Pete sneered at the sight of Kate. "You fucking bitch." He stumbled towards her, blood dripping down his ear and backhanded her across the face with such force it knocked her backwards and into the kitchen island. Her head slammed painfully into the corner of the marble surface and the world turned black.

Daryl

Daryl nodded at the man at the gate and stode back into Alexandria holding a dead wild turkey by its feet. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it was enough of an offering to make amends for punching the doctor in the face, but it was a start. Maybe the powers that be would be more forgiving with a full belly.

He cut across the grass, electing to avoid the street that ran along the lake. He wasn't in the mood to see anyone, just wanted to go home and get it all over with. He was sure Kate was angry.

He found Sam sitting on their porch quietly. He didn't look up when Daryl approached.

"Hey Sam." He mumbled, dropping the turkey. The boy didn't respond.

Just inside the door Rick stood in uniform.

"What's with the kid?" Daryl asked. Rick didn't respond, just eyed Daryl nervously and looked away. Daryl, curious, followed his gaze and found Kate sitting in the living room holding an ice pack to the back of her head. Her lip was split and bloody. Jessie sat next to her on the couch, her face bruised and her neck purpling.

Daryl stiffened and his vision blurred. Rage was coming off his body in waves.

"Pete do this?" He asked, a deadly calm in his voice that even surprised him.

No one answered.

He nodded in understanding and turned to go.

"Daryl!" Kate shouted as he headed back out the door.

"Wait!" Rick called after him. "Let's figure out a plan."

"There ain't nothin' to figure out Rick." He said as he stormed down the street. "I'm gonna kill that sumbitch."

Rick ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He walked back in the house, "I don't want to leave you two, but Daryl…"

"I'll catch up to him." Carol said as the tea kettle whistled and she moved it quickly to the back burner. "There's water for tea if anyone wants it."

Daryl threw open the infirmary door and it crashed so hard against the wall the glass shattered out of it. Pete sat at Holly's bedside, finishing up the make-shift cast he'd placed on her arm. His eye, the one Daryl had injured the night before, was practically swollen shut and blood matted the hair above his ear.

At the sight of Daryl he stood, moving slowly towards the kitchen as Daryl approached him seething.

"You need to leave!" Pete shouted, putting the island in between them.

"I ain't leavin' until you're dead." He growled.

"Wait, I didn't mean to hurt her. She shouldn't have been there. She got in the way."

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

Pete put his hands out in supplication. "Please, Daryl, hear me out."

"No."

Pete made a dash for the door, but Daryl was quicker, diving at him and slamming him back into the wall. He slammed his fist into his gut and Pete groaned. Daryl did it again, higher this time and he felt Pete's ribs crack under his knuckles. He grabbed a fistful of his sweater and dragged Pete gasping towards the counter, slamming his face into the unforgiving stone surface.

"Daryl…I…" Pete spluttered, blood and shards of teeth dribbling out onto his chin. Daryl didn't stop to listen. There wasn't a thing this man could say that would save him. He pulled Pete's head back again by his hair and sent him nose first back into the edge of the counter. There was a crunch of bone giving way. Blood dripped onto the floor and inhuman sounds escaped Pete. Daryl let go and Pete dropped to the floor. He started a desperate army crawl towards the door, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Daryl kicked him in the ribs and he turned over with a groan. He lowered his boot onto his neck, watching Pete squirm under him like a fish. His mouth gaped open and shut and he fought uselessly against Daryl's leg as the pressure increased. A flash of color outside the window caught Daryl's attention, and he glanced quickly to find the frighted, wide eyes of Sam Anderson. His mouth pulled in a painful grimace, tears and snot streaming down his face. He looked from father to son and something inside of him gave.

He couldn't kill the man in front of his boy no matter how much he deserved it. He wrenched his foot away from Pete's clenched hands and sat at the kitchen island, resting his head in his hands. Pete, curled into the fetal position, wheezing and coughing.

He heard the crunch of feet on broken glass and tried to figure out what he was going to tell Sam when a gunshot shattered the silence.

Standing in the doorway of the clinic, holding the gun she stole, Carole stared down at Pete's lifeless body.