Gripping the doorframe that led into his cell, Daryl groaned. He gripped the top of the doorframe and pulled himself up, crossing his ankles as he did so. He hadn't liked the way Rick had looked at him, like he was redneck trash. Rick had never looked at him that way before, he was one of the few who hadn't. Daryl knew he was wrong, suggesting that they should create an army, but the words had come out his mouth before his brain even knew about them. He hadn't thought, just spoke. He lowered himself slowly before pulling himself up again. The pattern continued for a couple of minutes.
When Daryl was younger and angry, he'd either take his anger out on people, or shove it down and do some pull-ups in the hope that they could release the tension. Today they failed him though and when he finally stopped, he was just as mad as before. But he wasn't mad at anyone in the prison. He was mad at himself. He dropped to the floor and dropped his crossbow on his bed. He threw himself down next to it, a yell of self-loathing escaping his lips. He imagined he had sounded just like the Governor the moment he suggested they create an army.
A shadow fell across him, blocking the light streaming through the doorway. He ignored it, knowing who it was. He couldn't be bothered with her right now, not while he was in this mood, not while he was most likely going to take his anger out on her. God knows she didn't deserve that. Daryl had only just forgiven himself for the first time he'd taken his anger out on her. But he would never forget how she stood there and waited for him to hit her, she took his words bravely. The shadow shifted and sat on the bed next to Daryl, not saying anything.
"Daryl? Are you ok?" Carol's voice echoed in his head but he ignored it.
"Go away Carol." He snarled, his hands bunching up into fists. Carol ignored him and laid a soft hand on his knee. Daryl sat up at the touch, hitting his head on the bunk above his. He winced and dropped back onto the pillows. Carol patted his knee comfortingly.
"I know you don't want to talk but I think you should. We haven't had a good...chat in a while. I feel like I've lost all of the Daryl I know." Carol murmured. Daryl sat up, slowly this time, and gave Carol an incredulous look. He crossed his legs and bunched the sheets up in his hands, his shoulders sagging as he played with the sheets. Carol watched him for a while, taking in his sagging shoulders and downcast face. Something had gone out in Daryl ever since Merle had died. The angry, redneck that Daryl had fought so hard to control was taking over him. He was reversing into the past, becoming the angry man that hand prowled the Atlanta camp, a belt of squirrels draped over his chest. The Daryl that Carol had first come to know and fix.
The squirrel pelt came off easily enough and was tossed to the side with a flick of a wrist. Daryl was a hunter, he was a survivor. He observed things, he would pick up on tension within the group, note things about certain people. So it was no surprise to him when he heard the yelling from down at the creek. He glanced over at Merle, who was preparing for a run into the city. Merle smirked back him, hearing the yelling himself.
"Sounds like a lovers' tiff, baby brother." Merle smiled, slinging a Winchester bolt-action rifle over his shoulder and patting his brother on the shoulder as he walked past. Daryl stiffened under the touch. He never liked it when people touched him, even when it was just Merle.
"Kill some geeks for me!" Daryl called over his shoulder, his way of goodbye. He peeled the pelt off the next squirrel and threw it down into the pile. The yelling was still happening, the sound bouncing off the high cliffs of the quarry. Daryl threw down his squirrel belt impatiently. The shouting was doing his head in. He wiped his bloodied hands on his shirt and grabbed his crossbow, intending to go on a hunting trip but a woman's cry stopped him. It was a pain-filled cry that had Daryl tensing up. The sounds of his Dad inflicting damage on his Mom echoed through his head, the crack of a slap then the scream. The pain-filled scream.
Something in the cry had Daryl loading a bolt into his crossbow, running towards the shouting and screaming. He paused when he spotted the husband and wife, the slightly overweight man towering over the slight frame that lay in the sand, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. He had seen them around camp with their daughter but had never uttered a word to them. The man bore down on her, raising a fist and stamping a foot into her belly. The woman cried out again. The man gripped her by her short, grey hair and dragged her towards the water. He shoved her head into the creek and held for a moment while the woman thrashed about, powerless under her husband's grip. She gulped in air the moment she was free of the water.
Daryl surged forward, the instinct to protect the woman strong. He didn't know why he felt the need to protect her, maybe it was because she was a woman or maybe it was because he was also a victim of abuse, but the need was strong. He wrapped his strong arm around the man's neck and dragged him back, allowing the woman to come up for air. He slammed the man in the sand and pressed his foot to the man's throat, pressing down but not hard enough to kill.
"Do you feel like a man? When you push her around? Does it make you feel better?" Daryl barked, his crossbow aimed at the man's face. He recalled his name as Ed or something similar. Ed was going blue in the face, feebly trying to prise Daryl's foot off his throat. He had seen the taller man's power when he fought with his brother. Daryl spat in contempt, hitting Ed square in the face. He removed his foot and kicked him in the stomach. Ed crawled away, his face burning with embarrassment and his eyes watering with the sudden rush of air.
Daryl watched him before turning his attention to the woman who was sitting in the water, coughing and sobbing at the same time. She caught Daryl watching her and wiped her eyes, taking a slow breath. She composed herself and sat watching Daryl, a curious glint to her blue eyes. Finally, she got up the nerve to speak.
"Why?" Was all she uttered. Daryl's eyes widened, his brow furrowing and a scowl settling on his features. Did she like getting beat up or was she just retarded? Why did she need to ask such a question? Anyone would have done the same if they had witnessed it.
"I can't seem to stay away from a damsel in distress." Daryl spat into the sand before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He placed one in his mouth before holding out the packet to the woman, his eyebrow raised in a silent offering. The woman smiled before getting to her feet and taking one cautiously. Daryl fished his lighter out his other pocket and lit up before taking a long drag. The woman took in the man before her with his muscular body and clenched jaw. A muscle in his cheek was ticking away and he was bristling with an unspoken rage. His shirt was covered in blood and scraps of fur.
"I'm Carol." She murmured shyly, taking a drag.
"I know." Daryl frowned and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but then clamped it shut.
"You are?" Carol prompted, wanting to find out the name of her knight in shining armour.
"Daryl." He shrugged and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He dropped his cigarette into the sand and stamped on it, crossing his arms over his chest. He eyed Carol warily, taking in her stooped figure and short hair, the bruises trailing up her arms and across her collarbone.
"Do you want me to wash your shirt?" She suddenly gestured towards his shirt. Daryl frowned, unsure of the attention he was receiving. He didn't like it. He had always washed his own clothes and now someone was offering to take the job off his hands. No thank you. His mother had preferred Scotch and cigarettes than keeping house and his father preferred whipping his kids and wife with a belt, using a polished buckle.
"No."
"Are you sure, it's filthy and it really is the least I can do." Carol was almost begging but her eyes still remained on his face, a steely determination staring at him.
"No. It's fine woman." He snapped impatiently. He'd said no, what was it with her pushing? Daryl scowled at her once more before turning on his heel and storming away.
This woman made him so nervous and it was an unwelcome feeling. He disappeared into the woods that evening and was not seen again for a couple of days
"Carol?" Daryl's voice brought her back from the memory. She shook her head and faced Daryl, her eyes focusing on his face.
"Yes Daryl?" She replied quickly, wiping her eye that had misted up at the memory. She finally understood why Daryl had saved her, why he'd stopped Ed. It was because he knew what it felt like and she was sure it had surfaced his own memories of the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his father.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Daryl sounded so broken, so young and so little. He sounded like he needed a huge hug. Carol shifted her position and draped her arms around Daryl's shoulders.
To her surprise, Daryl didn't pull away. Sure he tensed up, but he didn't pull up. He hadn't completely regressed to the stage where no one could touch him. Carol was honoured that she was one of the few people who was allowed to touch him.
"I don't think you're a bad person. I think you're broken and have had a crap life but I don't believe for one minute that you're a bad person. And I'll bet my right hand that Rick doesn't think you're a bad guy either. No one does. You've earned your place here. You've saved us all countless times. Rick knows you don't really want to create an army, he knows you're still grieving over Merle. He knows." Carol murmured, soothing Daryl much like you'd soothe a child.
Daryl pulled away from Carol and looked at her. She was so kind. She hadn't deserved the life she'd had. It still mystified Daryl why she had been with Ed in the first place. She could have had so much better. She could have anyone she wanted in his eyes, but she'd chose Ed. The man who beat the shit out of her countless times. The man that beat her daughter. She had married a bastard.
"Carol, why did you…." Daryl blushed, "Why did you marry Ed?" Daryl looked at his hands, before glancing at Carol. She looked stunned at the question but quickly regained her composure.
"Because I thought he could give me the life I wanted." She said simply, shrugging, "I was wrong."
"You could have done so much better."
"I know. Trust me I know." Carol stood up quickly, her eyes tearing up. She hadn't thought Daryl had cared so much. She blinked quickly before turning and walking to the cell entrance.
"I better go. I have some laudry to do then I have Judith duty." She smiled quickly before disappearing into her own cell for a quiet minute to herself.
Daryl understood why she left so quickly. He had seen the tears in her eyes but they weren't sad tears. He didn't know what they were but they weren't sad tears that much he knew. He knew he had stirred up memories of her husband, maybe even some of her daughter, that Carol had buried deep down. He hadn't asked to hurt her, he had asked because he was genuinely curious. He felt a pang of guilt at making Carol cry but repressed it and stood up instead. He left his cell and stopped outside Carol's, hiding behind the wall. He knew she was in there, he could hear the quiet sobs.
He pushed past her cell without looking at her and disappeared into the common area. Herschel and Beth sat at a table, chatting away and keeping an eye on Judith who lay in her makeshift cot, quietly gurgling to herself. Glenn had Maggie in his arms, her head tilted back onto his shoulder, whispering quiet things in her ear, occasionally causing her to giggle. Most of the Woodbury residents were in their cells or outside in the courtyard. Rick was probably selecting a few to go fix the gates with him.
Judith's happy gurgles stopped and she started to wail, begging for attention. Daryl made his way over to her, stopping Beth with a kind look and a curt, "I've got this,"
He lifted the baby up, holding her under the arms and inspecting her. She was at the stage where she could support her own head and could roll over. She could stand if someone held her chubby hands. Daryl looked her over casually. He did it as a joke, looked her over before making a cutting comment or remark.
"You'll do." He smiled at the sour look on Judith's face, "Why the face? Someone's grumpy today, ain't cha lil' ass kicker." He held her properly, his arms in an awkward cradle, rocking back and forth slowly. He tickled her chin before making a silly face. Judith gurgled happily. Someone appeared at his elbow, making silly faces next to him. It was Carol.