"Let's have a moment in the sun. The magic's only just begun. It's time to have a little fun. We want everybody to come and see why you should be on Easy Street…"
Daryl sat in the corner, staring into the dark. His body ached and his stomach twisted and all he wanted was to sleep.
"Yeah, we got a front-row seat. Oh, to a life that can't be beat Right here on Easy Street 'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street…"
The lock clicked and the door swung open, but it wasn't Dwight holding the sandwich out to him. The fat man from earlier—or was it yesterday? The day before? —waited for him to take it. Daryl grabbed it from his hands and took a bite.
"'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street."
Finally, the man shut the door, but there was no click of the locks sliding back into place. The song started over again.
"We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet, 'cause the world is but a treat when you're on easy street. And we're breaking out the good champagne. I'm sittin' pretty on a gravy train.…"
Daryl crawled over to the door and peered through the gap between the door and the floor. There was no sight of anyone.
"It's time to have a little fun. We want everybody to come and see why you should be on Easy Street."
Carefully, he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open as quietly as possible.
"Yeah, we got a front-row seat, oh, to a life that can't be beat, right here on Easy Street..."
Daryl looked around the hall, finding it empty. He made his way down the hall, his bare feet padding against the tile as he turned one corner and then another, passing the red chair. He paused at the third corner and glanced around the wall to see a large man walk through a heavy metal door. He heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he quickly darted in the opposite direction.
He made it to another hall and peered around the corner when there was a tug on the back of his sweater. Daryl flinched and spun around, only to see Sherry standing there.
"Go back while you can," she urged. "You know I did. Whatever he's done to you, there's more. There's always more. You won't get away. And when you're back, it'll be worse."
Daryl glared at her but said nothing, and then he turned away, taking another glance around the corner before heading off.
He came up on a door with a little square window to the outside. He peered through it and saw a row of motorcycles parked to the left and no Saviors in sight.
Shoving the door open, Daryl made a run for the bikes, searching for one with a key in the ignition.
A door slammed open and Daryl whirled around to see three Saviors filing out. He ran for the door he'd come through, only for three more saviors to spill out. He turned and even still more came, that fat man among them, aiming a revolver at him.
He was surrounded, and that damn whistling filled the courtyard as Negan strolled into the circle, his bat resting on his shoulder.
"Are we pissin' our pants yet?" Negan asked.
Daryl watched him as he dropped his bat to his side. He shifted his weight on his feet, preparing for a fight.
"Who are you?" Negan asked before pointing his bat at the fat man.
"Negan," the fat man said.
"Who are...you?" Negan asked, pointing at the man directly behind him.
"Negan."
"Who are you?" Negan asked once more, gesturing to the circle.
"Negan," they echoed back.
"You see that? I am everywhere." He smirked. "And this was your shot to prove to me that that fundamental fact was sinking in, and you failed. Which sucks, because your life was about to get so much cooler. Am I right?"
"Damn right," the fat man said.
Negan stepped forward and hit the ground at Daryl's feet with his bat. Daryl grunted and moved his feet out of the way as Negan hit closer to his toes. Negan chuckled.
"Now, Dwight gave you some options. I don't think you get it yet. So, I'm gonna break it down for you. You get three choices." Negan held up his index finger. "One, you wind up on the spike and you work for me as a dead man. Two," he held up a second finger, "you get out of your cell, you work for points, but you're gonna wish you were dead. Or three," he held up a second finger, "you work for me, you get yourself a brand-new pair of shoes, and you live like a king! Choice seems pretty obvious."
Daryl worked his jaw.
"You should know, there is no door number four," Negan warned. "This is it. This is the only way." When Daryl said nothing, Negan chuckled. "Screw it," he said, reeling back and bringing his bat within a mere inch of Daryl's face.
Daryl didn't flinch—didn't even blink. He just continued to glare.
"Wow! You don't scare easy. I love that," Negan said. "But Lucille—well, it kind of pisses her off. She finds it be disrespectful. Lucky for you, she's not feeling too thirsty today. But I am," he said, the smile dropping away from his face.
They glared at each other for a long moment.
"So, I'm gonna go get me a drink!" Negan suddenly laughed, heading out of the circle.
As he left, he began his whistle again and the Saviors surrounding Daryl started forward. Daryl turned about as the Saviors encroached on him. He slammed his fist against the nearest one and another shoved him down before the rest began punching and kicking at him.
Daryl's mouth was swollen and he could feel bruises forming all over his body. He leaned against the wall, relishing the silence—only to hear soft footsteps. He looked to the gap and saw a shadow of someone stopped in front of the door.
"Daryl?" Sherry called.
He sighed and pressed his head into the wall.
"There's so many things I wish I never found out. I wish I didn't try," she said. "Back in the woods after I lost Tina, when we took your stuff, when we decided to go back—I told you I was sorry, and you said, 'You're gonna be.'" There was a pause. "I am."
Her footsteps trailed away until he was in silence again.
He sat there, trying his best to tune out the music and get some sleep, but the upbeat tempo kept his heart rate elevated and his brain throbbing.
"Let's have a moment in the sun—"
The music suddenly stopped and the door swung open. Dwight held the sandwich to his face. Daryl turned his head away—he couldn't chew it anyway. Dwight threw it to the ground and leaned against the door frame.
"Eat," he said, his voice unusually gentle.
Daryl didn't move.
"You got your friend killed," Dwight began. "I got Tina killed. And don't pretend like you don't know the score."
Daryl grabbed the sandwich and threw it at Dwight, the dog food smacking against his shoulder with a disgusting wet sound.
Dwight knelt beside him. "You should be dead," he hissed. "But Negan's taken a shine to you. You're lucky. Don't forget."
He heard Dwight shift and watched as he leaned over him, sticking something to the wall.
"Bon Appetit," he said before slamming and locking the door shut.
Daryl snatched the piece of paper off the wall and threw it to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. After a moment, he glanced at the little square illuminated by the light that came in through the gap between the floor and the door.
He picked it up and slowly turned it over, tilting it toward the light. A lump formed in his throat and his chest constricted at the sight of Glenn laying on the ground, his head crushed. He could still hear the sound of the bat cracking against his skull.
Daryl set the photo down and pressed his head against the wall. He deserved this. Dwight was right. He got Glenn killed. It was his fault.
"I was all right, for a while. I could smile for a while. But I saw you last night. You held my hand so tight as you stopped to say hello. Oh, you wished me well. You couldn't tell that I'd been crying…"
Unwillingly, a sob rose up from his chest. It was his fault Glenn was dead. It was his fault Maggie was all alone. His fault her son would grow up without a father. His fault. That's all he could think as more and more sobs and tears wracked his body.
"When you said, "so long" left me standing all alone. Alone and crying. Crying. Crying. Crying. It's hard to understand, but the touch of your hand can start me crying. I thought that I was over you. But it's true, so true…"
"Step in," Dwight ordered.
They were at the furnished room with the red chair across the hall, and Negan was lounging in the leather arm chair. Negan got to his feet, grabbing a glass of water from the side table as he inspected Daryl.
"Jesus. You look awful," he commented. "Don't worry, we'll have Carson fix you all up. You thirsty? Here." He held out the glass of water, and Daryl took it but did not drink. "Ah, hell, I forgot. Your mouth is all puffed up like a baboon's ass. Need a straw? D, give him a straw. What's wrong with you?"
Dwight crossed the room and grabbed a straw, returning to put the straw in Daryl's glass.
"See that guy? He hustles. I like hustle. But believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us," Negan explained. "See, D here—he worked for points, him and his super-hot wife and her super-hot sister."
Dwight snatched the glass from Daryl when he didn't drink.
"But, see, sis—she needed meds and that shit is hard to scavenge, so it cost more. Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me."
Daryl glanced at Negan, furrowing his brow.
"Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah, blah, blah—because I am a stand-up guy. She tells me that she's gonna think about it," Negan laughed. "Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation. Dwighty boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super-hot wife and my super-hot maybe soon-to-be fiancé."
Negan tapped his bat against the tile, and both Dwight and Daryl flinched.
"So, I had to send my guys after him," Negan continued. "Because I can't let something like that stand. There are rules," he said, emphasizing his words with his bat. "Cost me an arm and a leg going after him. And you know what—Dwighty boy?" He chuckled. "He still got away. But here's the thing. D—he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that. Made me take notice. But Lucille. Well—you know how she is," he said, leaning in close. "She is a stickler for the rules.
"So, Dwight, he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kind of cute—so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which, if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed-up deal, 'cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but Sherry is super-hot. Anyways, it was a start. But it wasn't enough so Dwight, he got the iron."
Daryl looked to Dwight, taking in the scarred half of his face.
"And then I married his super-hot wife—ex-wife," Negan corrected. "And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him. Pow! One of my top guys and we are totally cool. The point being," he said, turning to Daryl. "I think you can be that guy. I think you are ready to be that guy. You look around here. This?" He gestured to the room. "Well, it can all be yours. All you got to do is answer one simple question. Who are you?"
Daryl said nothing.
"What? Does the cat got your tongue? You're just overwhelmed by the awesomeness of this? I'm gonna ask you one more time."
Negan stepped in close and held the bat next to Daryl's face.
"Who are you?"
Memories flooded Daryl's mind, memories of Glenn and Rick, Maggie and Hershel, of Beth. Then Anna came to the surface, her smiling face as she showed him that stupid paper-mâché bird.
"Daryl."
"Oh," Negan sighed.
"This is the only—"
"Hey," Negan snapped, cutting Dwight off. "It's cool, D. He made his choice. Ain't my problem if he made a dumbass choice."
Dwight threw Daryl in the cell and he settled in the corner.
"You're gonna wind up in that room or hanging on the fence!" Dwight shouted.
"I get why you did it," Daryl said, his voice a calm contrast to the anger on Dwight's face. "Why you took it," he went on when he knew he had Dwight's attention. "You were thinkin' about someone else."
They stared at each other.
"That's why I can't," Daryl finally said.
Dwight clenched his jaw and shut the door, the locks clicking into place. The music didn't turn on as Dwight left, his steps echoing down the hall until they disappeared.