Disclaimer: TWD isn't mine.
Blood Debt
He dreamt he was in a tree stand with Merle. Quiet as can be, Daryl focused on the task at hand while Merle kept trying to chat. His brother's toothy grin hinted at the ridiculousness of last night's escapades. Daryl hushed him and pointed at the deer bending to drink. He cocked the crossbow and scooted to the edge of the stand.
Merle smacked him hard on the back of his head.
Daryl fell.
"Gotta watch your back, Baby Brother."
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Daryl's eyes ripped open. Air rushed under his head and through his hair, the strands inches from the whirling train wheels. He gasped. He flailed for purchase on the under carriage but couldn't reach it. A heavy stone crushed his back.
"Teach ya to mess with me!"
Ed pressed his knee deeper into Daryl's spine. Two thick hands clamped around Daryl's throat and pushed him closer to the sparking wheels. It thundered. Clack clack clack. The pressure on his back increased. He coughed. He tried to roll. Then, the pressure was gone and he shot upward.
Daryl scrambled back from the edge and targeted Ed with clenched a fist. But the man's back was to him; he had a new target. There was a jarring smack as Ed slapped Carol's cheek. She dropped the rifle. It clattered to the floor, its end shiny in the shadows. A second later, Ed's white knuckles clamped around his wife's neck.
Cusses hot and jagged spewed from his mouth. "Cunt! Slut!" The woman weakly clawed at her husband's grip. Ed buried a hand in his hair. It came out red. Instantly, Ed's face matched the blood. "How dare you hit me!"
"Let 'er go!"
Like a bull, Daryl charged him. Upon the impact Ed lost his grip on his wife. She dropped to her knees. Momentum carried the men to the other side of the car where they smacked off the wall. Breaths puffed out of Daryl hard and fast. His veins sang as he kicked Ed to the floor. Straddling Ed, Daryl punched him.
"Fucker!"
Ed's lip split. His eyes swelled shut.
Daryl stalled his assault only when the sting from his knuckles out-powered the rage. Fisting Ed's shirt, he landed one more punch and then left Ed wheezing on the floor.
Daryl flopped onto his back. The vibrations of the train wheels rattled through his bones. A cursory swipe along his face came away with a smear of blood. After a few ragged breathes, he glanced at the woman.
She had made no attempt to clean the mess on her cheeks. Her shoulders rose and dropped sharply. Otherwise, she was kneeling statue. The kid was half hidden in the pile of hay, silent as a ghost. The train swayed and squealed. Then, as if his attention carried a magnetic charge, Carol's eyes latched onto his.
Two events happened at once.
One, he saw, really saw the woman for the first time. Short grey hair to limit Ed's grabbing options. Clothing picked and worn to hide the damage from the last rage. Intimately familiar with the look of day old bruises mixed with fresh ones, Daryl grimaced. Merle would say it was none of his business. But, hell, if he hadn't just made it his business. Maybe Ed would just crawl into the corner and sleep it off. Maybe the train would arrive wherever the hell they were going and they could all go their separate ways.
An attractive fantasy, that.
Have you hit your head so hard you've gone stupid?
A calm washed over Daryl. The last inhale before death or triumph. He'd only experienced it once before when Merle's drug dealer leveled a gun at him after he questioned the quality of the product. Stupid question. Merle had rushed in with sweet, twisted words and the guy stuffed the gun back in his waist band, clapping Merle on the shoulder.
Daryl didn't have Merle or a honeyed tongue to get him out of this one.
This wasn't over until someone was dead.
Two, Ed wobbled to his feet, eyes narrow like a snake. He towered over Daryl, rage twisting his mouth into a demonic snarl. "I shoulda shot you the second you stuck your grimy head in this car!"
The alcohol in his system overtook the adrenaline. It was like sludge had exploded in all of his joints and tendons. Daryl rolled away from Ed's boot stomp just in time. Daryl clambered to his feet. Caught in the movement of the train, the two men knocked shoulders. Ed kneed him. Grunting, Daryl slipped toward the open door and tripped.
"Fuck!"
He fumbled for the hand hold and grabbed it at the last second. He dangled over the edge. Wind blasted him in the face. Eyes wide, panic shot through him. With a grunt, Daryl yanked himself inside along the side of the car. His knees buckled and he had to brace his hands against the car to keep from falling to the floor.
Not missing out on an advantage, Ed marched toward him with a bloody, toothy grin.
"You're done!" Ed lunged.
Daryl launched off the wall.
Ed hit nothing but metal. He lost his footing and slammed down onto the edge of the car. Dazed, he laid there, one knee hooked around the open door.
Daryl staggered to a stop. His hands trembled. He flicked his wrists, trying to steady his nerves. It was time to end this. It had to be done. Ed swatted at him as Daryl gripped Ed's shirt and dragged him to the car opening.
"No. Please," Ed pleaded. Spit and blood bubbled from his mouth.
"Fuck you. Tryin' ta kill me?"
Daryl smacked away the man's flapping hand and kicked him in the ribs. A surge of strength swelled in him as he took one last look at the coward, the wife-beater trash. Then, Daryl kicked Ed off the edge.
Ed's eyes went wide like plates and then they were gone.
There wasn't a thud or a even yelp, just the continued clacking of the train down the tracks.
Heaving, Daryl slammed the door shut. Thinking better of it, he lifted a limp hand and latched it.
Doors shut and locked, it hit him.
He was a murderer.
It had to be done, but that justification didn't make it easier. Suddenly, there wasn't enough alcohol in him. From his bag Daryl pulled out the shittiest bottle of whiskey and gulped down four big swigs. It dribbled down his chin and neck. Capping the bottle, the situation hit him again, this time like a wrecking ball.
He just killed a man.
In the middle of the car, Carol finally shifted.
He wheeled on her.
"You got something to say?" He yelled at her doe-like stare. "He came after me! I ain't sorry, I ain't!" He took another swig, and then another because half of the first dripped down his beard. A third because her lip had started to bleed.
He collapsed into his pile of hay, dazed. Where had all his energy gone? Did he really just-
Left Merle.
Just killed a man.
Carol blinked at him. Her throat and cheek were red.
Clack clack clack clack clack.
Sophia wailed from the back end of the car.
"Shut the fuck up," he screamed. A sick knot twisted his gut. He gagged.
Left Merle.
Just killed a man.
"I said shut up!" He roared into the silent car.
Killed Merle.
He chugged the whiskey.
Killed a man.
"You ain't the hero, Baby Brother."
He chugged it until he couldn't remember, until Carol's blue eyed stare blurred into nothing.
Carol cried out once and then fell silent. No angry words, no noise at all. She simply sat with her arm around her daughter, blankly staring at nothing. Her only movement was to hop off the train to fulfill nature's call.
He widowed this woman.
Every time he sobered up enough for her silence to enrage him, he drank. The heavy buzz he maintained allowed him to piss off the moving train without giving two shits about the people behind him.
Relentless, Merle jabbed an imaginary finger at him.
You pussy.
Left yer brother in a shit hole.
And now yer a murderer.
He woke to an aggressive boot nudge and cursed, "Fuck off, Merle-"
Carol and her kid hovered over him, clutching the rifle gun like a safety line.
"What do ya want?" Sweat broke out over his skin; drunk on alcohol and self-hatred, could he really defend himself against this wisp of a woman? He waited for the barrel to aim for his head. Let the wife finish what the husband could not.
"Please protect us." She pulled her daughter closer.
"What?" He croaked.
"I'll trade you Ed's gun. And, and any of our supplies you want." When Daryl held his disbelieving silence, Carol insisted, "I'm not stupid. Me and Sophia alone? It's a terrible idea. We can't..." Hysteria crept into her voice before she concluded, "Let's...team up."
Caught in a haze of alcoholic sleep, Daryl rubbed his eyes and willed her to fade away. When his vision cleared and she hadn't disappeared, he cursed. The last time that rifle was in his face, Ed had threatened to end his life. Now, it was offered as a sign of peace.
"Get that thing out of my face," he growled.
She corrected her stance, but did not back away. "Please."
Daryl rose to one knee and glanced at his belongings. Crossbow, alcohol, some food. Very little food. The pile at the end wasn't much more, but it was a better stash than his. Three backpacks and some blankets. The rifle.
Carol stood back with her arm around her daughter. The duo swayed. He caught her putting the hard mask on, the little straightening of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin. He'd seen that look on his Ma before, staring dumbly over the kitchen sink with a black eye.
She was trying so damn hard to look strong.
A snarl ripped through him. He rushed her and stole the gun from her hands.
"Could just take this from ya," he said. "Could kill ya too."
He made a show of checking out the scope. Despite his anger an indescribable warmth spread in his chest at her request, the trust it took to ask a worthless redneck stranger for help. He narrowed his eyes at her again, unable to decide if she's stupid or desperate.
Both, maybe.
Carol swallowed and said, "I don't think you will." The honesty in her voice goaded him like a dare.
His anger flared again. There were a thousand ways he could prove her wrong. He was a Dixon after all. Yell or cuss her out, make those damn blue eyes cry again and steal whatever shitty food they had in those bags. How dare she claim to know him?
However, instead of triggering his worst, that weird warmth brought his anger back down to a simmer.
"I killed your husband," he reminded her. Daryl made himself tall and hoped his guilty grimace was interpreted as a snarl. Ed had deserved it, but that didn't wash the blood from his hands.
"He was a monster," she said simply. Her cheek was still red from Ed's slap. A bruise had blossomed on the side of her neck.
He widowed this woman.
Fear finally overtaking her, Sophia abandoned her mother and rushed to their pile of hay and goods. Carol clenched her now empty hand into a fist and blinked at him. His resolve cracked further. There was nothing like a debt unpaid to strap him down. Blood was the ultimate debt; it's what kept him tied to Merle for so long.
"And I left him in Atlanta."
Daryl shook the thought away.
"Keep yer gun," he said finally and handed it back to her. She'd been nothing but kind to him, giving him medicine, sharing those small smiles. It was a mistake to be sure. He wasn't worth it.
"What?" It was the first time she faltered.
"I don't need it." His rebuke snapped in time with his wrist as he extended a hand. "I'll...I'll help ya out."
This was a deal, an agreement with terms. That kind of relationship he could wrap his head around. After all, he wasn't a hero, he wasn't doing this because he was nice. He killed her husband, the least he could do was keep them alive. At the very least, it was something to anchor himself to as he rode out this end of the world chaos.
Her hand was slim and fit perfectly in his.
"Thank you!" She whispered harshly. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she curled her fingers around his in a vice.
Daryl grunted and broke the contact. "Name's Daryl Dixon."
"Carol Peletier. And my daughter is Sophia."
Static crackled. Daryl finally located the speaker tucked into the upper corner of the car.
"We'll be arriving soon at our destination, folks. Better make any preparations and get ready to disembark."
Author's Note: It's weird to me to go back to a time in TWD when killing a person still bothered the characters. I hope Daryl's actions and consequences made sense. On the plus side, Ed is gone from Carol's life!
Thanks for reading. Feedback is greatly appreciated!-randomcat23