A/N: So, this chapter takes place after the group leaves the CDC at the end of Season 1, and before the first episode of Season 2. Most of it is based off a deleted scene that you can watch on Season 2's DVD special features or probably YouTube. Check it out. It's awesome. This chapter was much longer, too long actually, so I cut it in half.
It was quiet. That was the only word that he could use to describe the present situation. Creepy, as well, along with exhausting and stressed and anxious; but quiet fit the best, because it was complete silence as everybody filed into the abandoned retirement home, pulling up old sofa cushions and thin, medical mattresses to sleep on. He doubted anyone would be getting any actual sleep except for the children, however. The air stank to heavily of death and rot, and the building simply did not seem safe. When Rick Grimes had led them all here, he'd claimed it was, along with Glenn, T-Dog, and even Daryl had given his silent nod of approval. "They're our friends," Glenn had stated confidentially, speaking highly of the small gang they had met in Atlanta. "They'll take us in."
But it hadn't been safe. The old people who had once lived here, along with the group of men that had been protecting them, were all gone by the time they arrived. Looking around now, the windows were still smeared with blood and gore, the floors stained permanently, and Dale shuddered. Rick had described this place as almost… normal. As if the apocalypse had never touched it. Now…
And after what had just happened at the CDC…
"I'm going to check on the others," he declared, shouldering his rifle. "Be back in a bit." Lori gave him a nod, and he left the room and drifted towards where he could hear increasingly rising voices coming from a place that had once been a recreational center, with nice tables and a stage in the center. Now, the furniture was smashed, and corpses were piled up in one corner, the faces of the old people still frozen in horror. He bowed his head away from the grisly sight, and instead turned to find the reason for the near-shouts coming from his comrades.
He wasn't surprised to see Daryl was the center of attention this time, and the foul twist in his gut grew when he noticed the young redneck was clashing heads with Andrea. The woman's pain was clouded at the moment by snippy sarcasm, and he stopped in the middle of his stride to avoid coming in between the argument.
"Are ya all dumb or somethin'?" Daryl was snapping, shouldering his crossbow. "Let's all try to be a bit observant, shall we?" He looked purely disgusted and exasperated, while Rick and T-Dog glanced at each other in innocent confusion.
Andrea snorted, crossing her arms, rolling her eyes. "Observant. Wow, that's a big word for the likes of you. Three whole syllables." Almost everyone winced at the insult, 'specially Dale, knowing that the Dixon brother wouldn't take kindly to once again hearing the usual 'dumb redneck' remarks that came his way. He watched Daryl bristle, but surprisingly, the younger man reeled himself in enough so that he didn't immediately go on the defensive. Instead, he pointed his finger at several of the bodies, choosing to make his point rather than defend his dignity at the moment.
"Did any of ya stupid city folk take care ta notice the headshots in all these bodies?" Daryl demanded, sneering. "Any of ya 'detectives' realize that all these people weren't bit? Na, these poor saps were shot, execution style. Somebody came in 'ere and shot 'em all up, then took whatever they wanted. The geeks came in afterwards." He glanced at Rick Grimes, who was actually nodding in approval at his work – Daryl felt red creeping up his neck at how impressed the former sheriff's deputy looked – and turned to glare at Andrea. "Gid a dictionary," he scoffed at her. "Look it up. Observant." He jabbed a finger to his temple, to his brain, to prove his point, and then stormed out of the room.
Dale took time to try and catch Andrea's eye; but as soon as she noticed him, she looked away, gliding over to one corner of the room to drown in her misery. He was tempted to follow her… but that would no doubt make things worse. She was still angry with him, no doubt. Understand, he silently pleaded with her, though knowing it would do no good. The mental wounds the group had suffered in Atlanta, escaping the Center for Disease Control, they were still too fresh. He slipped out of the room quietly, unnoticed by Rick or the others, and trailed after the one problem that had emerged before losing Jacqui and their new doctor acquaintance at the CDC; a problem he still had some sort of grip on. Kind of. Not really.
He still wandered around until he'd found Daryl anyway, the younger man kicking a walker that had already been dispatched of. Watching the man's boots sink into the putrid, liquefying flesh, made his stomach churn, and he cleared his throat in order to stop the action. "Calm down, son, that's not helping anyone," he spoke up, using the same words he'd used back at the quarry camp, when Daryl had been attacking the limp corpse that had ruined his freshly caught deer. Of course, that time Daryl had taken the advice sourly and had charged right up to his face so that Shane and Rick had to push him back.
At least this time the archer controlled himself enough so that he merely shot a deathly glare in the older man's direction. "Fuck off," he snarled; but he shoved the walker corpse out of the way and proceeded to march down the hallway.
"Daryl, wait," he called after him, moving into a light jog so that he could catch up with him. "Just… just hold up a sec."
Sure enough, he got what he asked for. Daryl came to a sudden halt and spun around so that he was right in his face, Dale's chest crashing into his own as Daryl's forehead touched his own in an intimidating manner. "What. Do. You. Want?" he growled, blue eyes sparking. "Why don't ya just leave me be?"
Dale took a moment to swallow and collect himself. "You want me to leave you alone," he said evenly. "But Daryl… I'm not going to do that until you talk."
The other man backed off slightly, breathing hard, eyeballing the elder and searching his face for… what? Did he expect Dale to suddenly shed this concerned personae and bare his teeth at him? Was he waiting for Dale to snap out of his fatherly worries and to shove him away, resent him, write him off as some worthless hillbilly with a crossbow as so many other had? Dale had the sickening feeling this was so, and so before Daryl could throw another fit, he decided to leap ahead of the situation. "I'm not here to be a pain in the ass," he stated firmly, deciding to use one of his rare moments of profanity in hopes of keeping Dixon's attention. "I'm here because… because I want to help you."
Daryl's face was stone; confused, completely caught off guard, stone. "What makes ya think I want any of your help?"
Okay, now here was his chance to fix things before they got too out of hand. "I'm… sorry… about your brother, Daryl," he stated, making sure to keep eye contact, making sure to show just how sincere he was. Because he was almost positive that not one person – the exception being maybe Rick – had bothered to sympathize with Daryl for the loss of Merle. Instead, there had been complaints about how useless it had been to go back for the oldest Dixon, even with Daryl still in earshot. Thinking 'bout it now, Dale realized with regret that he should've spoken up sooner; he kept his resolve firm now as faced Daryl. "I know not a lot of us have said it," he continued. "A-And I know that while he wasn't the most… likable… of the group, that he was your brother. And now he's gone. So, so I'm sorry for that, Daryl, and I'm sorry I hadn't said it any sooner."
Now he waited. Waited and watched while Daryl continued staring at him like he was some paranormal essence, or some ticking time bomb getting ready to blow up in his face. His gaze was untrusting, suspicious… confused. "Ya'll ain't sorry for nothin'," he spat, though his voice wasn't very loud or too intimidating this time. "Said so yourselves – my brother ain't worth shit, even with a bag full of guns thrown in."
Dale winced as the younger man threw Lori Grimes' words back at him, clearly remembering how the desperate wife had been trying to convince Rick to stay at camp, that going back to look for Merle and the guns he'd left in Atlanta wasn't worth it. He opened his mouth to say so, to explain that Lori hadn't meant that; but he couldn't, because he wasn't blind to the way the others held the Dixon brothers in their eyes. Troublemakers. Unpredictable. Dangerous.
"I can't speak for every one of them in there," he said slowly, pointing down the hall to where the group was located. "But, I am speaking for myself when I say that I really am sorry that you lost your brother, Daryl." He paused. "And… I'm grateful that you stayed."
Sharp blue eyes narrowed, so Dale hurried. "You saved Shane's life earlier today," he pointed out, ignoring how the young redneck rolled his eyes. "When we stopped to siphon gas earlier… if you hadn't warned us all, we'd never have known that herd was coming. Shane would've been caught out there, and who knows who we would've lost."
Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously getting agitated and uncomfortable. Dale couldn't help but notice just how skittish the youngest Dixon was. "If ya think I'm gonna keep on playing momma for all ya blind pussies, your wrong."
"I'm not asking you to do anything," Dale replied. "And I hadn't earlier, either, but you still saved Shane and you still helped get the group through Atlanta earlier. Daryl, I'm thanking you. For staying with us and for helping us, even when I know you don't think you have a place here. But son… you do."
Once again, the archer turned away his gaze, staring at a small hole in the floor, obviously wondering whether to lash out or simply walk away. Walking away. Dale wondered why Daryl hadn't last night, but knew enough not to ask at the moment.
"Ya do realize I threatened ta shoot ya not long ago, don't ya?"
Dale's lips twitched upwards a bit. "No. I don't seem to recall that at all. Must be my memory slipping."
"Back at the CDC, I tried ta ax that doc's head off. Would've too, if Rick Grimes hadn't got in the way."
"We were all scared. We all thought we'd be incinerated – heat of the moment. Who knows? Maybe, if I'd had a weapon at the time, I wouldn't have held back. Maybe I would've done just what you and Shane had done – threaten to kill that man if he hadn't let us out of the building."
Once again, the other man's expression was incredulous. He pointed an accusing, disbelieving finger in his direction. "Your one stupid sonabitch," he stated, taking a step forward.
"And I'm proud of it," Dale countered, smiling openly now. His mind flashed back to images of scars and threats and hurt from a few nights ago, and his gaze softened. "I know you're not used to this whole 'playing with others' stuff, but… you're doing a decent job at it, honestly." He rushed before he could be protested. "You act like you don't care, Daryl, but… I can't make myself believe that's true." He thought back to the brief night of relaxation they had had at the CDC, the entire group around one large table, drinking and stuffing themselves and joking. And Daryl, sitting in the corner, getting up and joking with Glenn Likesportal, grinning, laughing, speaking openly to Rick and Shane and T-Dog without that wary glimmer in his eyes. It had probably been the alcohol that had shot down the man's guard for the night; but it had been pleasant. He wondered if they would ever all be that comfortable with each other's presence again. Hadn't helped that after that night, Daryl had tried to take out the CDC doctor's head with both a bottle of whiskey and an ax later on. He'd also snapped quite harshly at Sophia for crying while clearing out the retirement center, putting the girl's mother and Lori on edge, and he'd butted heads with Andrea; but then again, heat of the moment Dale reminded himself.
His fingers fiddled with the hem of his Hawaiian shirt as he let a brief moment of silence clear the air of some of the tension; the atmosphere was thick, yes, but at least this talk seemed to be going relatively better than the one back on the highway. He suddenly remembered he'd wanted to give something, a peace offering, to the younger man; but then realized that going back to the room with the others than coming back would just make things more tense, and let it go for now. It could wait. For now, he decided maybe they should end this before Daryl ran off again. "We need you," he stated as he turned to rejoin the others, deciding not to lock eyes this time, just to let his words hang in the space between them. "Believe it or not, we do." He chewed on his lip, taking a moment to brace himself before adding, "The others are starting to realize it too. You're… you're not your brother, Daryl. You a decent man."
He didn't wait to get yelled at or shot with a crossbow bolt; he spun on his heels and walked down the hall, head bowed, feeling Daryl's piercing gaze on his back the entire time.
When he reentered the room, he noticed everyone was already seated. He plopped himself down, quite near a depressed Andrea but not close enough so that she could snap at him for it, and waited. Stared at the doorway until, 'bout five minutes later, Daryl came strolling through, heading immediately for a distant corner. Dale made sure to turn away at the right moment so that it wouldn't be noticed he'd been staring, trying hard not to look relieved that the other man had showed off at all. He hasn't left yet, he told himself gratefully, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment. Kind of tells you he won't be leaving at all. It was rather comforting to know, because he knew despite past problems, at this moment this group needed to start getting real, real serious about survival; and something told him that nobody knew how to survive the harshest things the world threw at them more than Daryl Dixon.
He reopened his eyes to see Shane handing out chips and little scoops of canned beans to everyone. When the dark-haired man also pulled out a bottle of cheap wine, everyone perked up a bit. Even Daryl, who had unconsciously seated himself quite near him and Rick, hesitated before smirking at the former cop. "That ta share?"
Apparently, he wasn't the only one who wanted to the pleasing atmosphere that being shitfaced drunk had brought back at the CDC.
Shane stared at the other man for a long moment, gaze hard and judging; before something warmed up on his expression, and he actually grinned at the redneck he hadn't trusted at any length 'till now. "Y' know what?" he said, chuckling. "You saved my life earlier, so I'm gonna be nice to ya from now on." And he tossed the bottle over, Daryl took it, and the pair each gave a half-nod. Apology and acceptance in one small gesture, like when GI's would share a cigarette on the battlefield. Dale noticed Rick was grinning too, and the atmosphere wasn't as intimidating as before. Still frightening, seeing how they were still in this ruined, unsafe building in a walker infested city. But at least the danger between the group members was quickly beginning to dissipate.
He took some plates of food from Shane and began helping to hand them out. When he reached to Andrea, who looked up at him coldly, he braced himself for the second problem to come his way.
Funny how redneck Daryl Dixon could be easier to deal with than this woman here. Yet he crouched down before her anyway.
"WAKE UP! EVERYBODY, WAKE UP! GET UP! GET UP!"
Glenn's panicked shouts – no, screams – awoke everyone simultaneously. Daryl, always having been a light sleeper, snapped his eyes open after the first call and was already out the door by the time Rick was standing, his crossbow loaded with a bolt. He sprinted out into the hall, towards the staircase where Glenn must've been on watch; and then stopped short, eyes widening. "Aw, SHIT!"
Glenn had his hands on a thick piece of piping and was whacking walker heads left and right, the steps already slick with gore; yet the effort was clearly wasted because everyone time one of the geeks disappeared, two more showed up in its place.
Daryl launched an arrow into the skull of the one nearest before leaping forward, slamming his knife into another head, sinking the blade in all the way to the hilt. "Gawdamnit, kid, how the hell did this happen?!" he shouted above the groans and commotion polluting the air.
"They all just appeared out of nowhere!" Glenn defended himself. "I was on watch, and I was watching, I swear! They all must've pushed through the doors downstairs."
"And ya didn't hear 'em? Didn't smell 'em? Jesus Christ, Glenn, what the hell?!"
By now, everyone else was pouring out to see what was happening – he heard screams from that girl Sophia and cries of outrage and exasperation from Rick and Shane. They were running forward, pistols thundering; he did a quick check over the situation and then grabbed the Asian kid's arm. "Ain't no use stayin' out here, there's too many!" They ran back towards the room, Daryl waving his arms at Shane and Rick. "Git 'em all back in there!" he shouted. "Go! Git back in the room!"
They hesitated, brains scrambled and still fogged from sleep, and then leapt into action. They began shoving the others back in the room, and as soon as Daryl and Glenn launched themselves through the doorway, the door was slammed shut and people began wildly piling furniture in front of it. Almost five seconds after they got it locked, five walkers slammed themselves against the thick wood and glass; and then there were ten, twenty, probably thirty.
Shane was wildly slamming things around, searching for a way out while cursing his head off. Sophia was in her mother's arms, Carol clinging to the girl, while Lori kept Carl nearby with Andrea near her. He caught Dale's gaze, the old man's eyes wide with fear and anxiety, and then when he looked at Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Shane, they all simultaneously glanced at the creaking door.
No way was that shit gonna hold.
"We gotta get out of here!" Shane hollered, dashing towards the other door nearby, jumping back and exclaiming "SHIT!" when more walkers slammed themselves against it from the outside.
He couldn't help let his eyes scan each face in the room, the same faces that he'd found smiling and laughing and actually pleasant back in the CDC. The kids, Carl and Sophia, were clinging to their mothers, the girl's face marked with tears; he once again found himself looking at Dale, whose calm composure was falling to pieces, revealing panic and fear.
And gawdamnit, he wasn't gonna let the old bastard and all these pussies die, not here, not now, not like this.
"We need you. Believe it or not, we do. The others are starting to realize it too."
Not once in his life, not ask a child nor as an adult, had he ever been needed for nothing more than hunting for their families food or being on the receiving end of his father's drunken rage. It was a foreign concept to him; and hell, if this wasn't just the perfect time to test Dale's theory.
He threw himself forward, pushed himself through the others and leapt onto the coffee table, using that as leverage to jump even higher onto the bookshelf near the window. He balanced on that, teetering dangerously, his years of hunting experience clicking into place as he swung his crossbow forward, smashing the glass, everyone crying out at the loud, frightful noise that was added to the walkers' symphony outside.
Daryl, still perched on the bookshelf, craned his neck around and jerked his head at Rick, who was watching him with wide eyes. "Rick Grimes, toss me those sofa cushions! Gonna git ourselves the hell outta here!"
Rick moved into action, Andrea even managing to snap herself out of her daze long enough to throw three long, plush cushions in his direction. He grabbed 'em and dropped them out the window. It would soften their fall yes; but damn them for choosing the second floor to camp out on. The grassy ground was littered with junk and debris; if they missed the cushions and landed on some shit piece of metal…
Carol and Lori were already lining them and their kids to go first, but Shane stopped them. "Me and T-Dog are going down first," he declared. "Get some cover on the ground 'fore ya send those kids." He waited for Daryl to jump off the shelf, and then scampered up it himself, rifle in hand. He poised himself, gritting his teeth, and then let himself fall out in a freefall.
Everyone held their breaths. The doors creaked ominously.
Shane's voice came through moments later. "A'right, Tee, get your ass down here!"
T-Dog went out next, and they heard rifle shots as they two took down any walkers nearby outside. "Send Carl now!" Shane called next. "And Lori!"
Rick watched his wife and son climb up, and took the time to toss a nod in Daryl's direction. "Quick thinking," he added to the approving motion. Shane's words of 'danger' and 'unreliability' could go to hell; Daryl Dixon had a temper but was the man they needed at this point.
Daryl heard the words and ducked his head, Dale's words ringing teasingly in his head. Fuck if Merle were watchin' now… His brother had never enjoyed the company of others unless they had a well-stocked stash of coke somewhere on 'em. He'd never let Daryl be in the company of others either.
Sophia was on the windowsill now; but when Shane ordered her to jump, she shook her head and whimpered, looking over her shoulder at Carol. "Go, baby, I'll be right behind you," the mother pleaded. The little blonde whimpered and shook her head. "Sophia, you have ta jump!" Shane shouted again, standing on the grass with his arms spread out in case the girl missed the cushions.
"Guys, hurry!" Glenn cried out from where he was guarding the doors, firearm trembling slightly in his hands.
"Sophia, jump!" Rick shouted, moving over to help the girl out.
There was a crashing noise from the side, causing Daryl to jump as Rick screamed, "JUMP!"
The side door was completely gone, burst to splinters by the dozen of walkers that were suddenly all over the place. Carol screamed, Rick fired his Python, Glenn stumbled backwards but let his heavy rifle rip. Almost all of the monsters made their way for the girl silhouetted against the moonlight on the window. She screamed, but still didn't move.
Fuck it. Daryl once again found himself rushing forward, downing one walker before he bounced off the table. He didn't bother reaching for the bookshelf this time; instead, he thrust his arms out and sailed right out the fuckin' window, Sophia pressed against her chest and screeching at the top of her lungs.
Midair he managed to turn so that she wouldn't bear the brunt of the impact; which was good, because his wild fly out the building really hadn't given him time to aim, and he missed the cushions – and Shane – entirely. He hit the dirt, missing a pile of scrap metal by inches, the force pushing all the air out of his lungs, the back of his head slamming against the hard, unforgiving ground. Lack of breath didn't stop the audible "Fuck!" that escaped his lips, nor did the blow to his cranium drown out Carol's petrified scream of "SOPHIA!" or the other cusses escaping Shane and T-Dog's mouths as they rushed over to them. They yanked Sophia off him first, giving him time to wince and catch his breath before Shane grabbed his hand and pulled him unsteadily to his feet. "Shit, man," was all the former deputy had to say; but Daryl could've sworn the other man was managing a shaky, inane grin despite their situation. He slapped him on the back, and seeing as he was still too dazed to flinch away as he normally would, he allowed the rare display of appreciation. Didn't change anything, he told himself. Tried to tell himself.
It was only when Shane moved away and he blinked several times did he realize everyone else was now on ground level, Sophia clinging to Carol as everyone tried to figure out what to do. Ears ringing a bit, Daryl shook his head to clear it a bit, and thus did not notice everyone was moving until Dale grabbed his arm. "Son, we've gotta go," he said, voice hasty, shoving him forward. "Everyone to the RV!"
They all ran, gunning down nearing walkers as Dale ushered everyone into his beloved vehicle. Rick and Shane entered first, yanking open the windows a bit so that they could cover the others as they were crammed into the tin can with wheels. Daryl hesitated before entering, the place looked so jam packed with people that he wondered for a moment if he'd be better off just taking his chances on the roof; but Dale pushed him in before he could make up his mind and that was that.
Eight people packed inside the RV like sardines, along with a buttload of random boxes of crap they'd picked up along the way, half of it not even useful.
It was going to be a long night.