5/10

If he had been a psychopath hell bent on revenge, Daryl figured he would have holed up in the woods somewhere; gone to ground with his quarry, so that any rescue mission would fail to yield results. But if he was a psychopath with a girl in tow that he thought was his dead daughter? There was only one place he'd take her; home – Daryl had ended up pushing his bike the last mile, so that the powerful roar of his engine wouldn't attract unwanted attention before he was ready. Daryl crouched in the shadows, and quietly spat out the taste of bile as he made sure the gun he carried had its safety off; the spare clips he carried were tucked into the waistband of his pants and within easy reach. His knife was strapped to his hip, and his cross bow was resting at his feet. Tucking the gun into his pants, Daryl lifted the crossbow and scanned the night sky. Woodbury was silent as he crept into the town; the shuffling of Walkers was absent and Daryl licked his bottom lip slightly when he saw the corpses that littered the streets. Seemed someone had made his job easy then; pity. He could have quiet easily caused a blood bath with the mood he was in.

Michonne had laid out the route he had to take to find the Governors house; the windows of the houses he crept passed were all dark. Yet in the distance a single light shone, and Daryl swiped his hand across his nose. He could hear low voices as he grew closer; an argument by the sounds of things. Heated words in the dark, and Daryl winced when he stepped on broken glass and it tinkled softly under his foot. The sound went unnoticed, however, and as he crept closer, words finally began to drift towards him. And there in the distance, two men stood together a few houses down from the one that had the light on. Martinez he recognised, which made the one with his back to him Dwight; Michonne was right – the bastard was slimy. Martinez spat on the ground and shook his head; the look on his face was one of cold anger, and when he pointed at Dwight angrily, Daryl blew out a silent breath.

"…wife… kids… I didn't sign up for raping little girls, or for half the shit we do."

While Dwight snickered, Daryl froze in his tracks; his heart had skipped a beat, and he exhaled painfully as he swayed where he was crouching.

"She ain't no little girl, Martinez… the Guv's gonna figure that out quick smart, and once he's done with her? Mm mmm, we is gonna have ourselves a mighty fine time. Did you see how that bitch reacted when the Guv first grabbed her? I never thought she'd give herself up, but like I said, it's gotta be that she ain't into men. She must wanna get between those milky white thighs almost as much as I do. I thought she was gonna break her back trying to break free when I popped the blonde one; only the Guv fuckin' her kept her pinned while you was carryin' the girl away." Dwight snickered again and spat on the ground. "She went nuts while I was fuckin' her; mighta had somethin' to do wit' the fact that I told her I'd think about her while I was givin' it to her little friend in the ass."

Martinez turned away and shook his head in disgust; but when he looked back towards Dwight, he looked directly at Daryl. Daryl froze when recognition flared in the other man's eyes; the moment hummed between them, before Martinez seemed to come to some sort of decision and he gave an imperceptible nod of his head before he deliberately looked away from Daryl.

"She's a kid," he said coldly, and Dwight snorted as Martinez continued to stare at him. Daryl stood up slowly as he unsheathed his knife. And as he crept forward, Dwight spoke again.

"If you think so. But legal or not, I bet she's a screamer… can't wait to find out while how much of a little hellcat she is while ridin' this!" he said with a grin as he grabbed at his crotch.

His laughter abruptly died when Daryl twisted his hand in the other man's hair and yanked his head back. Putting his lips close to the other man's ear, Daryl spoke coldly. Calmly. "That's my little hellcat you're talking about," before he neatly slipped the knife into the man's lower spine and dragged it upwards in a quick movement. Dwight managed to gurgle in agony as he fell to his knees with his spinal cord severed, and he stayed that way as Daryl kept his ironclad grip on his hair. Walking around the kneeling man so that he could crouch in front of Dwight, Daryl stared at him for a long moment before he spoke quietly as he wiped his knife on Dwight's shirt.

"The first mistake you made was hittin' my girl. The second was comin' to the prison at all. But the fatal mistake you made was thinkin' that you could put your hands on Beth, and live to tell the tale."

Dwight drew breath to scream as blood ran freely from between his lips. But before he could draw breath to do so, Daryl was resting his knife tip against his chest and leaning on it. The blade had been honed so that it was razor sharp, and it sank through muscle and bone slowly as Martinez's tanned hand slapped over Dwight's mouth to trap any escaping sound; Daryl continued to stare into the man's eyes as the knife sank into his chest, even as they began to roll in his skull as pain eradicated most of his senses. And as it sank up to the hilt, Daryl leaned forward so that his cheek brushed the other mans; he spoke softly while praying that whatever deity was listening, they would forgive him the small white lie that he had learned from witnessing something private what felt like a life time ago.

"She's not a screamer… but her breath does tend to hitch in the sweetest way when she's touched just right."

Carnal recognition flared in Dwight's eyes as Daryl pulled back slightly, even as death stole the light from them. Martinez stepped back as Dwight's breathe rattled out from between blood soaked lips, and when Daryl yanked his knife free from the man's chest a minute later, only a small spray of blood coated his cheek. Dwight's body fell to the ground and when Daryl rose to his feet, he unslung his crossbow and put a bolt through the back of Dwight's skull. Silence fell on the night, and as Martinez drew breath to speak, he faltered and slowly raised his hands when Daryl yanked the gun out from the waistband of his pants and pointed it straight at his head. For a long moment, tension hummed between them; Daryl tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

"Gim'me a reason," was all he said, and Martinez swallowed hard as Daryl stepped closer to him so that the gun was pressing against the skin of his head.

"I didn't know he was gonna take your girl… Beth," he stuttered, and Daryl's mouth tightened.

"I don't… she ain't…" Daryl broke off and shook his head before blowing out a harsh breath.

"You took a kid from her home. You stood back while a woman was raped… and you say you're a family man." Daryl shook his head in disgust, and lowered the gun slightly.

Martinez swallowed hard, before he shook his head.

"You're nothin' like your brother, are you?" he asked, and when Daryl looked back at him, Martinez swallowed again. "The Governor killed your brother," he said quietly. "And while I might not have pulled the trigger, I was there. I didn't stop it."

He lifted his chin when the gun was jammed back against his forehead; lifted his chin and thought about his wife and children waiting for him in the next world as Daryl's face twisted with grief. The blow that came didn't come from a bullet though; it came in the form of a clenched fist that knocked him clean off his feet. It was followed by heavy boots that rained down a series of blows, blows that were directed at his stomach and rib area, and he bit back his pained cries as more than one of his ribs broke under the force of Daryl's fury. When the blows stopped several minutes later, Martinez could barely breathe; Daryl's face swam into his wavering line of sight, and the coldness of the man's tone sent a shiver down his spine.

"I won't kill ya; nah, you gotta live wit' this now. You come near me or mine again though? I'll gut you like a fuckin' pig. Only thing that saved you tonight, was what I heard you say about Beth. But I promise you this; I go in there and he's raped her too? I'll come back. There'll be nowhere on earth you can hide… I'll find you. And I'll take my time finishing what I just started."

Daryl stood up and sheathed his knife, before he tucked his gun back into his pants. And as Martinez stared at him through the blood in his eyes, he saw Daryl turn back to face him. The booted foot swung towards his face in slow motion, and the blinding pain that exploded across his face when it connected took him under without another thought crossing his mind.

XxXxXxX

The silence of the night was broken by the sound of music when Daryl broke into the house. Bye, baby Bunting floated through the dark rooms as Daryl walked carefully down the hall. He held his breath when he saw the master bedroom; it was released silently when he saw that the bed was neatly made, and he continued down the darkened hall toward the light he could see. But as he crept passed the bathroom, he paused; the scent of soap hung heavily in the air, and as he pushed open the door with the muzzle of his gun, Daryl's chest constricted. Beth's clothing lay in a tangled heap on the water soaked floor; there was a smear of blood on the edge of the bath, the red of it a startling contrast to the white of the porcelain. Crossing the bathroom on silent feet, Daryl swiped his finger across the blood and then swallowed when it came away wet against his skin. Backing away from the bathroom, he continued to search the house. And as the music grew louder the closer he got to it, Daryl followed the sound on silent feet. It was only when he could see through the open door that he paused as a rage so hot stole over him and had him swaying momentarily on his feet.

Beth was kneeling on the floor; the jumper she wore did up like a straitjacket. Her arms were crossed across her body, and the ends of the sleeves were buckled behind her back. And while she was slim, the clothing she wore obviously belonged to a younger girl. The skirt came to mid-thigh and strained at the seams as Beth knelt at the Governor's feet. A twisted bandana was tied tightly between her lips, while another covered her eyes; she blind to everything but the man who sat behind her running a small brush through the ends of her damp hair. Daryl swallowed hard as metal clinked against metal, and he swayed again when he saw the collar that was cutting into the skin of Beth's throat; a chain ran down her back, and was lightly coiled across the Governor's knees as he continued to sing softly and brush Beth's hair. Daryl took a calming breath, but before he could take a single step, the Governor was setting the brush aside and gripping Beth's arms. The cry she uttered was muffled behind the gag, and Daryl froze when the Governor turned her so that when she tottered on her feet and then collapsed, she fell across his lap. The Governor hushed her, and as Beth tried to struggle free, he simply arranged her on his lap so that she was curled into him; wrapping his arms around her like Daryl had seen Beth do to Judith before, he began to rock slightly.

"Hush, my love," he crooned as he continued to sweep his hand down over Beth's hip and thigh. "Daddy's got you, you're safe now."

A look of confusion momentarily stole over his face as the song playing died away, and his hand tightened against Beth's thigh. She cried out, a muffled sound of pain as the Governor's knuckles whitened against her leg. But as the music started back up again, his hand relaxed, and he released Beth's flesh from his painful grip. The sound of the front door opening had Daryl melting into the shadows of the room beside this one, and he held his breath as a large man strode down the hallway. As he walked past the room Daryl was hidden in, he recognised the man; Shumpert paused before the Governor and shuffled his feet a moment before he spoke.

"Sorry to disturb you and… Penny, Sir, but we have a problem," he said, and Daryl slipped further into the shadows as the music abruptly stopped.

The creak of an armchair echoed, and the Governor spoke calmly.

"What is it, Shumpert?" he asked, and the other man cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I just found Dwight; he's dead."

Silence grew and thickened, before the Governor spoke.

"And what of Martinez?" he asked.

Shumpert shifted on his feet, before he spoke carefully.

"He's…uh… he's out there lookin' for a breech. He said he thought he'd seen a group of people near the center square; he sent me to come and get you, while he went on ahead to scout the area."

Daryl stilled at the obvious lie, and clenched his hands into fists when a muffled cry echoed. Shumpert shifted on his feet and looked away from what he could see, and as images of what the Governor was doing filled his head, Daryl fought to relax the clenching of his jaw.

"You stay here, princess, Daddy'll go and kill the bad men who have come to try and steal our town. Be a good girl, you hear; you don't want Daddy to get angry now, do you?"

The Governor pushed past Shumpert a moment later and as his footfalls faded, Shumpert spoke almost inaudibly.

"Martinez said to tell you that your terms were… acceptable. You've got five minutes to get her out… after that he'll find out we're lying and he'll come back here."

His footfalls were deliberate as he followed the Governor down the hall as the Governor called out for him; Daryl didn't hesitate. He moved into the other room quickly; but faced with Beth kneeling in the ground with the chain padlocked to the wall bought him a moments real fear. But then he was crossing the room at a run and dropping to his knees before her. Beth flinched away from his touch when Daryl ran his hands up her arms; he ignored that as he briefly cupped her face in his hands, before slipping the blindfold away from her eyes and over the top of her head. As he tossed the cotton material away, Daryl saw Beth wince as light flooded her eyes; recognition flared in her eyes though when she saw who was kneeling in front of her. Tracking his eyes over her face, Daryl scowled when he saw the bruise that rode high on her cheek. He had no time for comfort though, and he pulled Beth forward so he could undo the collar. Her head tilted down against his chest, and when he saw a second padlock, he swore viciously.

Rising to his feet, he gripped the chain in both hands, and pulled. It didn't budge; swearing again, Daryl braced his foot against the wall and pulled with all his strength. Knowing he was against the clock, Daryl finally let the chain go when it wouldn't give and sank back to his knees. Tracking his eyes over Beth, he sighed once and shook his head as he reached over to finger the collar around her neck. But when he touched leather instead of metal like he had expected, Daryl swallowed once as an idea exploded in his mind. Dropping his thumb to her throat, he brushed it along her carotid artery, before tugging the gag out from between her lips where it slipped down around her throat. Beth's lips parted as she drew breath to speak, but wisely stayed silent when Daryl slapped his hand over her mouth. He shook his head before he removed his hand; Beth licked her lips, and when Daryl withdrew his blood stained knife, she swallowed once and raised her eyes to his. Brushing his thumb across her neck again, he moistened his suddenly dry mouth.

"I nick this, and you'll bleed out in a matter of seconds. I don't wanna hurt you… you gotta stay real still for me, Beth."

She nodded as Daryl slipped his hand around the back of her skull; Daryl pulled her head forward again, and swept her hair out of his way so that the back of her neck was exposed. As he slipped the knife between her skin and the collar, he heard Beth's breathe hitch painfully in her chest, but she stayed still as he cautiously turned the knife. The copper scent of her blood perfumed the air, and Daryl swore softly as he carefully cut through the collar. As cautious as he was, however, by the time the collar fell away blood was running down the back of Beth's neck and staining the pale pink sweater that kept her trapped the way she was. Moving the knife further down her back, he cut through the buckles that held her prisoner, and Beth slumped forward against his chest. Running his hands down her arms, Daryl helped Beth wind her arms around his neck, and holding her close, he rose to his feet. With his arm around her waist, Daryl turned to leave. The sound of running feet had him swearing though and he sheathed his knife. Her arm dropped from his neck to his waist as Daryl unslung his crossbow in a fluid movement and he tightened the hold he had on Beth, as he held her against him.

The Governor burst through the door and fired the gun in his hand without thought as he barreled down the corridor. But when the bullet missed Daryl and slammed into Beth's shoulder, the Governor faltered when she screamed. It gave Daryl enough time to fire the crossbow once; the bolt flew from his crossbow and hit the Governor in the chest with enough force to knock him back several steps. Beth was sagging against him, and Daryl tightened his grip on her as he stalked towards the Governor. The man slowly fell to his knees as Daryl drew closer, and he reached up to grasp the bolt that was sticking out of his chest. A second one joined the first, causing his hand to fall away and he rocked there momentarily as he stared at the man stalking towards him. The madness that clouded his mind so often cleared slightly, and he recognised Daryl in the dim light. But when he glanced at Beth, his confusion was clear; Daryl's jaw twitched as he hitched Beth closer to his side, and as he looked between them, the Governor managed to laugh.

"I was wrong, wasn't I…? She wasn't my Penny… and she wasn't Michonne's girl either," he wheezed. "She was always yours… I shoulda fucked her after all."

He laughed again; what happened next occurred in slow motion for Daryl and would give him many an uncomfortable night in the days to come. He felt Beth move against him; felt her hand drift across his lower back, before it snaked away from him as she withdrew her hand out from between their bodies. And as the Governor rocked on his knees and laughed, Beth pointed the gun she had taken from Daryl at the Governor. She swayed once, and as Daryl opened his mouth to speak, Beth pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into his upper chest and stole the Governor's breath; Beth's hand shook slightly as she slowly moved it, and when she pulled the trigger again, another bullet tore through the man's shoulder. The Governor did cry out this time, and as Beth swayed momentarily on her feet as she lowered the gun so that she was aiming at his groin, Daryl slowly slipped behind her so that she came to rest against his body. The Governor let out a high pitched scream when Beth shot him again, and he lurched forward to the ground as inhuman sounds continued to spill from his mouth. Daryl ran his hand down Beth's arm to her hand; the motion of his hand against hers steadied Beth's arm, and as Daryl guided her hand, Beth tilted her head slightly. Staring at the man convulsing in agony on the ground before her, Beth sneered once; a look that often graced Daryl's face, and was out of place on her finer features.

"You're a psycho," she managed. "And my Daddy taught me that you put the sick down so they don't infect others."

With Daryl's hand steading her own, Beth pulled the trigger for a final time. The bullet hit the Governor's head, and he twitched once before he fell silent. For a long minute, Beth stood as she was; with Daryl's hand supporting her own, and her arm outstretched. But then she swayed into Daryl and the hand holding the gun fell to her side. Daryl took the weight of the gun and slipped it out of her hand a she lowered her chin. Tucking the gun back into his pants where Beth had taken it from, Daryl slipped his arm around Beth's waist and guided her past the man she had killed without a word. Yet as they grew level with the bathroom, Beth faltered mid step; her eyes swung toward the room, and even as Daryl tried tugging her toward the from door again, she was pulling away from him and staggering into the bathroom and turning on the light. Daryl scrubbed his hand down over his mouth; he expected her to be sick – nausea had his own stomach churning - but when Beth began to tug at the restricting clothing she wore, he frowned.

"Get them off me."

Hysteria coloured her words, and Daryl entered the bathroom hesitantly. Beth's right arm remained hanging by her side, and when she looked over her shoulder at him, desperation darkened her eyes to smoke.

"Daryl… help me. These were her clothes… I've gotta get 'em off."

Daryl simply nodded, and crossing over to her, he tore the sleeve from the jumper on the right hand side and tugged it free from her arm. It fell to the floor as he hooked his fingers into the bottom of the jumper, and with a muttered apology, he yanked it up and over her head. Beth hissed out a breath, and Daryl caught sight of far too much creamy skin before he averted his gaze. Spotting Beth's wet clothes just behind her, he untangled her top from her pants and then faltered when Beth's soft sound of distress echoed as he handed it to her; with one arm hanging uselessly by her side, Beth was unable to do anything but stand there and stare at him with her other arm pressed over her chest. Left with no other option, Daryl swallowed; colour rode high on her cheeks, and Daryl was horrified to realise he was blushing himself as he shook her top out and then tugged it over her head. She bit back a scream when he forced her injured arm through the sleeve, but she nodded once when Daryl gripped her elbows as she swayed and her face turned grey. Colour finally seeped back into her cheeks, and Daryl let her go as if the touch of her skin burned.

"He made me… uh… Daryl… I'm not wearing…. Shit…"

Beth's mortification was clear and Daryl closed his eyes and then nodded; the skirt proved more difficult to remove, and in the end, Daryl simply took his knife back out and crouching down, he ran it up the tautly stretched material between Beth's thighs. The knife clattered to the floor, and Daryl averted his eyes as he gripped the material in his hands and then wrenched them apart as hard as he could. Beth's good hand rose to rest against his shoulder, and with his eyes on her feet, Daryl shook her underwear out; her bare feet rose one at a time as she stepped into the panties he held, and Daryl closed his eyes helplessly as he guided them up her thighs. The skin of her thighs was soft beneath his fingers, and Daryl swallowed hard as he kept his eyes trained on the ground. He repeated the motion with her pants and then her boots, and when he finally rose to his feet, he saw that her pants were gapping open and exposing the pale skin of her stomach. The skin beneath his knuckles was as soft as her upper thighs had been as he carefully buttoned her jeans back up, and without a word he bent over to pick up the knife.

"Let's get the fuck outta 'ere," he finally muttered, and Beth nodded as he wrapped his arm around her waist for support.

By the time he got her out of Woodbury, Beth was staggering; blood soaked the front and back of her top, and ran down over his arm as he guided her to the fence. Headlight lit up his bike as he ducked through it, and Daryl jerked the gun out of his pants and pointed it at them as he tried to shield Beth with his own body. The sound of a car door opening sounded as the lights dimmed, and Daryl made out the sight of Martinez slumped in the passenger seat as Shumpert rose from the driver's side and stared at Daryl.

"Did you kill him?" he asked, but before he could answer, Daryl's gun hand faltered slightly when Beth swayed against him, before falling away completely as she became an almost dead weight.

He swung around to catch Beth and sank to his knees as Beth's teeth chattered in the cold air. Rushed footsteps drew closer, and Shumpert crouched down beside them. Quick eyes took in the gunshot wound, and he nodded once as Daryl pushed Beth's hair away from her face. Shumpert hurried away, and when he returned a minute later, it was with a battered first aid case.

"Sit her up," he said briskly, and Daryl did as the man said.

Holding Beth against him, Daryl bit back the need to lash out as Shumpert tightly bound Beth's shoulder with a bandage; Beth cried out as he made her rotate her arm, and he nodded once.

"Through and through," he said flatly. "It should heal up fine in a week or so."

Sitting back on his heels, he cocked his eyebrow and then jerked his thumb at Daryl's bike.

"How she gonna ride on that wit' you?"

"I'll manage."

Beth bit it out, and Shumpert smiled slightly.

"I can drive you…"

Beth's fingers tightened on Daryl's arm, and he shook his head as Beth's body jerked against him.

"She'll manage," he said with a tone that broke no argument.

Helping Beth to her feet without another word, Daryl led her over to the bike. But when he sat on the low slung bike, he steered Beth forward so that she sat in front of him, rather than behind him. Shumpert simply nodded and Daryl guided Beth's hands forward, his voice a quiet murmur of reassurance as he showed her where he wanted her to hang on. Shumpert stepped forward again, and he paused with his hands raised when Daryl pointed the gun at him again; a jacket hung from between two fingers, and when Daryl hesitated, Shumpert strode forward and handed it to Beth.

"She's in shock; blood loss'll do that to ya. Her sittin' there is a good thing; but without your body to shield her from the wind, she'll go down fast. That'll keep her warm enough until you get her home."

Daryl shrugged but helped Beth slip the jacket on without comment; it was only as he peered over her shoulder to zip it up that Daryl finally spoke.

"Why're you helpin' us?"

Shumpert shrugged.

"Like Martinez… I don't do little girls. Even if you hadn't come here tonight, we woulda killed the Governor and gotten her out. We woulda returned her when it was safe."

Daryl snorted softly.

"Then why'd he take her in the first place?" he hissed, and Shumpert smiled slightly.

"Better to be wit' him and safe, than wit' the likes of Dwight." Shumpert tilted his head and made his way back to the car as Daryl started the bike. But as Daryl kicked the kickstand back up into position, Shumpert called out.

"I know we ain't welcome. I know what you said you'd do to Martinez. But I'm gonna follow you back, so I know that little girl don't fall off your bike and become road kill."

Daryl hissed out a breath as he eased the bike into a turn, but as he drew side by side with the car he paused. Leaning down so his face was level with the window, he spoke coldly as he held the bike with one hand while the other rested on his thigh.

"Beth ain't a little girl. Not anymore. Not thanks to you and yours. Any little girl she had lingering inside her died in that fuckin' bathroom."

Shumpert's face paled, and he took in the vicious look on Daryl's face slowly, before he nodded. Daryl straightened up as he reeved the bike, and after briefly touching Beth's hip, he reached past her for the handlebar and guided the bike out into the night with a roar. Headlights lit up the road in front of them a minute later, and with those twin lights showing him more than his own single would, Daryl was able to use more speed. Beth's weight rested against him as the wind teased strands of her hair across his nose and lips; she shifted within the cradle of his thighs once, and Daryl let go of the bike with his left hand. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Daryl held her steady as he slowed down a bit; he didn't need Shumpert telling him how easy it was to take a spill from the bike. He'd picked gravel out of his own skin often enough.

"Stay wit' me, Beth," he shouted, and felt her jerk against him. But she nodded, and after a moment, Daryl lifted his arm from around her waist and grasped the handlebars again.

The prison loomed out of the dark twenty minutes later, and Daryl dropped his arm around Beth's waist again as she fought a losing battle with staying conscious. The gates slowly began to swing open as he came closer, and Daryl steered the bike through the opening without slowing down. Gravel spat out from under his wheels as he rode up the path, and the doors to the prison eased open as he rolled to a stop. Beth sagged against him, and she rolled her head where it rested against his shoulder. Daryl looked down at her, and swallowed as she brushed her hand along his knee.

"Thank you."

She whispered it, the sound barely reaching his ears. And as the doors to the main building swung open, Daryl reached up to skim his thumb across her jaw lightly. He continued to sit there as the others ran towards them; he felt Beth loose the fight and go limp in his arms; as she did, the knot in his chest eased. He'd found her. She was safe. She was home. But at what cost, he couldn't be sure.