One: Ambushed
"You shouldn't have called him," Shane Walsh muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned next to Rick Grimes. Hershel Greene, the sixty three year old packmaster of the oldest and largest pack in North America sighed heavily and placed his phone down on the table.
"He needs to be here," Hershel replied, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair, "its his family to."
"She's all our family," Shane snapped.
"And she's my daughter!" Hershel yelled, standing and knocking the chair down behind him.
"Hershel," Rick reminded him. Hershel sighed and rubbed his nose with his fingers. He nodded to his second and Rick nudged Shane's shoulder and mentioned his head towards the door. Shane followed, unhappily and closed the door behind him.
"You shouldn't have yelled at Shane, daddy," a small voice called from the window. Hershel looked up and eyed his youngest daughter, sitting on the window box. Dressed in a simple white dress with ballet flats, Beth Greene looked out from the upstairs window across the almost two hundred acres they owned.
"He questioned me," Hershel replied, "and he has no right."
Beth simply nodded and turned back towards the window. "So, he's coming home, then?" Hershel joined his young daughter by the window, a soft hand resting on her delicate shoulder.
"Yes Beth. Your husband is coming home."
Daryl sighed heavily as he sped past the sign that welcomed him to the home he never wanted to return to. His bike had gotten him there fairly quickly, in just about five hours. As the "GREENE" estate came into view he groaned inwardly. Five years may have been a long time for some, but to Daryl it seemed like only yesterday that he had left.
He parked his bike in the driveway, turning the engine off and planting a leather booted foot on the pebble-stone driveway. A police cruiser sat in the driveway, along with a few other cars that Daryl vaguely recalled.
"Son of a bitch," came a voice from the doorway. Daryl looked up and spotted Shane Walsh, the man who hated him from the moment he joined Hershel at their home.
"Hey to you to," Daryl replied, taking his helmet off and placing it under his arm while he grabbed his leather bag off the back of the bike before slinging it over his shoulder. He made his way up the stairs to pass by Shane, who stepped towards him and bumped against his shoulder. Daryl stopped, suppressed a growl and clenched his fist. "Move," he rasped out and shoved past Shane. Entering the house without even knocking, Daryl dumped his bag and helmet on a table in the entryway.
"You're back," another voice said, making Daryl roll his eyes and smile.
"Mother-fucker," Daryl laughed, turning and accepting the hug his old friend offered. Rick Grimes and Daryl were close friends and Rick had been one of the people Daryl had confided in about leaving, almost a year before he left.
"You ol' bastard you," Rick replied, hugging his friend.
"Glad to see you too."
"Daryl," a third and more involved voice stated. Departing from his friend's arms, Daryl looked towards his packmaster. Hershel Greene stood on the stairs, hand resting on the banister. "Upstairs." Daryl nodded and followed Hershel up the stairs and into the room he dreaded.
Her room.
So, chapter one is now posted. What was all that about being a husband? Hmm... well, maybe we will find out next chapter huh? Lots to happen up next. Thanks again for reading.
