Daryl is brought before Negan and his people while Rick and the group from Alexandria arrive at Hilltop to find the situation is a bit different than when they were last there.

"A crack in my soul..."

I'm well aware I'm a Danger to myself
Are you aware I'm a danger to others?
There's a crack in my soul
You thought was a smile

Whatever doesn't kill you...
Is gonna leave a scar
Whatever doesn't kill you...
It's gonna leave a scar
Leave a scar
Leave a scar
Whatever doesn't kill you, it's gonna leave a scar...

- "Leave a Scar" by Marilyn Manson

"Do you understand these rules as they have been explained to you?" Negan asked the new man, narrowing his eyes as he looked him up and down assessingly, the fingers of his right hand tapping on the handle of the barbed wire tipped baseball bat he had laid across his lap.

Daryl nodded and grunted, glad they'd taken his weapons from him so he could more easily ignore his almost overwhelming urge to put a bolt through the Big Fuck's head; ignore the fact that the woman seated beside the Big Fuck, the one whose thigh the asshole was casually caressing with his left hand, was Carol.

For her part Carol was playing her part to a T. Her imperious yet bored stare looked beyond him to the crowd watching the indoctrination inquisition of the new recruit as if she was gauging their reactions to him and his answers to her husband's questions.

Yeah, that's how the Big Fuck had introduced her, as his god damned wife. Daryl inwardly seethed with fury and frustration. He had enough sense to just go with it, to try and understand how she was playing the situation, playing it to deceive her captor, but what he'd seen so far made him wonder if he should have even bothered coming here.

Carol looked good; better than she had in weeks if he was honest with himself. She'd put on weight, had color in her cheeks and was wearing an elegant pregnancy dress. The only thing that gave him a sliver of hope was that he recognized what looked like a flannel lap blanket covering her to her knees as his shirt, the one she'd taken to wearing when he'd been held by the Wolves. It formed a thin barrier between her leg and the touch of the Big Fuck's hand.

"What do you think, my dear?" Negan asked her, as if he was used to consulting her on every decision.

"He looks capable enough." Carol said without even moving her eyes to Daryl, as if he was beneath her notice, giving a bored little sigh.

"A bit rough hewn, wouldn't you say?" Negan asked her, squeezing down on his grip on her thigh, forcing her attention to the man in front of them.

At that Carol very deliberately turned her gaze to Daryl. After a few moments she stood, lifting and setting aside the flannel and then walked down the steps from the raised dais, coming to stand before him. The guards on her shifted uneasily, raising their weapons, but Negan held them back with a gesture, waiting to see what would happen.

"Archer, is it?" Carol asked, and her left eye brow rose as she looked up at him.

"Yes ma'am." Daryl said, his expression blank, staring straight ahead, but a muscle in his left cheek right below his eye twitched.

Carol reached out with both hands and pulled aside his trench coat so she could see the belt of walker ears he wore there. With her right hand she reached in and lifted the twine, her fingers almost imperceptibly brushing against his groin as she did so.

Daryl held as still as possible.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Carol asked, staring at the grisly trophies and then looking up at him, her head tilted to the side.

Daryl's eyes darted to hers and he saw a brief flash, a crack in her icy mask before the shutters went back down. He looked away again, unable to risk causing another warming in the coldness of her beautiful blue eyes. He also saw that her healthy look was in part an illusion. Her face was carefully made up, the glow on her cheeks and lips as false as the air of regal calm she projected. She was as pale as a ghost.

"Too many to count." Daryl said in a world weary voice.

"How many people?" Carol asked, leaning in to lower the string of ears to his waist, the tips of her fingers grazing it and her baby belly oh so briefly but very deliberately bumping against his hip before she stepped back.

Daryl bit his lip to keep from smiling in relief as she continued with their set questions.

"Only them what deserved it." he said, forestalling the expected third: "Why?"

"If they took what you had?" Carol asked him leadingly, her eyes narrowing.

Daryl gave her a short curt nod.

"Your people?" Carol asked.

"Gone. I been alone." Daryl said. "On the road."

"So what do you have left?" Carol asked him.

"Only what you see." Daryl said. His few possessions, weapons and back pack contents were laid out on a table like exhibits in a trial.

"Everything here belongs to Negan." Carol said slowly and distinctly, enunciating every syllable.

"So I've been told." Daryl said evenly, swallowing the spittle he wanted to use to show them all what he thought of that idea.

"Everything. Even me, even you." Carol said, her voice cold warning, her hands resting on her swollen abdomen. "He gives us protection; we bow to his will and give him our lives and loyalty in return. Can you live with that?"

Daryl's eyes moved to Negan who watched with the scene with rapt fascination, leaning forward in his big chair, his chin in his left hand, the elbow resting on the arm of his chair. His right hand was curled around the handle of his bat.

In response to her question, Daryl reached down and flung open the sides of his black duster, swiftly going down on his knees and then snapping the twine holding the belt of ears so he could pull it off to offer them up to her, bowing his head in submission.

"Now that was fuckin' stylish, Archer." Negan chuckled approvingly, sitting back and slapping his thigh in amusement. "That was some King Arthur straight up bullshit spectacle!" he gestured to one of Carol's guards before she could take Daryl's trophies. "Kenny—take that shit from him—she doesn't need to be handling shit like that."

The guard quickly came forward and grabbed the ears, looking a bit disgusted as he did so.

"Sweetheart?" Negan called, summoning Carol back to his side and she backed away from Daryl, who remained kneeling, but watching her as she ascended the steps to resume her chair, lifting the flannel and draping it over her left arm carefully.

"Where's Dwight? Need him to set up the course—let's see how good our new man is with the bow and his knives." Negan ordered next.

Carol put her right hand on Negan's left forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"This man has been out there for awhile and he's hurt." Carol said quietly, her voice sympathetic now.

"Your tender heart tempers me." Negan murmured, looking at her adoringly, and then he leaned over and kissed her lingeringly.

Daryl jaw tightened and his nostrils flared, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"Carson—see to our knight gallant—bring him to us when you're done checking his health and make sure he's had a bath and a change of clothes... and have someone do something about all that fucking hair." Negan said, dismissing them both as he rose, shouldering his spiked club and holding out his hand to help Carol stand and lead her down the stairs and out of Daryl's sight, trailed by their guards.

"Rick, where's Carol?" Maggie asked, looking at the group that had arrived at Hilltop from Alexandria exiting the bus. Grimes was holding Judith in his arms, looking grim. Riley and Olivia followed close behind him, their eyes red and swollen from crying.

"And my sister?" Gray asked anxiously, scanning the crowd forming around the new arrivals.

"It was Negan—he took them—Carol, Enid, Erin, Rosita and Tara before we got back." Rick said, his mouth set in a downturned line.

"Oh my god—was anyone hurt?" Maggie asked.

"They blew up the gate." Riley said, "Daryl got caught in the explosion...knocked unconscious..."

Maggie's hand went to her mouth in fear.

"...but he's okay." Eric finished, stepping closer.

"Enid fought them. Apparently Abe and Eugene tried to help her and got beat down for it and their 'women' were also taken in retribution." Rick explained.

"That stupid kid." Gray muttered in anger and despair.

"He was going to take all of the women but Carol stopped him; offered herself up instead." Olivia explained tearfully.

"We think Carl went after them." Abe said, as more people joined the discussion after getting off the bus.

"And Daryl." Sam said stoutly, "He'll bring them back."

"I thought Daryl was hurt." Maggie said to Rick.

"They took Carol." was all Rick had to say. Everyone from Alexandria knew exactly what he meant.

"Time was you'd have gone after Carl the same way." Maggie accused, folding her arms over her chest.

"Carl's not my only child." Rick said flatly, angry at being second-guessed, holding on more tightly to his daughter. "And Aaron, Michonne and Morgan went with Daryl as back up. They're some of our best."

"Last thing we can afford is to antagonize the Saviors with some sort of half assed frontal attack." Jesus said, "Daryl's going in alone; infiltration is the best option at this point."

"The rest of us are going to get ourselves organized and form alliances with other communities against Negan," Rick explained. "Where's Gregory? We need to talk."

"Gregory is a bit tied up at the moment." Gray told them with a hard look.

Before they could ask what he meant, a solid looking woman with glasses and her medium length blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail came striding up, her black canvas messenger bag hung over her shoulder painted with a red cross on a white field.

"You have any med cases? Any wounded?" Dr. Cloyd asked, her brusque manner softening slightly when she saw Judith who ducked her head to her daddy's shoulder in shyness.

"We're good." Rick told her.

"Denise, this is Rick, the Leader of Alexandria." Maggie said by way of introduction. They hadn't met when he'd been there before. "Dr. Cloyd is one of our doctors here."

Rick registered the 'our' and his eyes narrowed.

"He another prick like Gregory?" Denise grunted, unimpressed. "I've about had it with the patriarchy running things."

"Depends on who you're asking." Jesus said with a cheeky grin as he stepped into her sight-line and Denise gave a whoop of happy recognition and launched herself at him.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, man-bun!" Denise crowed, hugging him tightly. "Carson will be glad to see your fancy ass."

"What's going on with Gregory?" Jesus asked, ignoring the digs at his hair and his romantic entanglements.

"Why don't you ask our new leader?" Denise smiled, looking over at Maggie.

All of the Alexandrians' eyes turned to look at the doctor and then questioningly at Maggie.

"The way these scars are layered—some are from before the turn..." Dr. Carson stated from behind Daryl, who was sitting on the exam table, in the medical clinic doing his best to act indifferent to the intrusive questions that came along with the physical exam, extremely uncomfortable to be naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips.

He'd been sent for a hot shower and delousing before seeing the doctor and his clothes had been taken from him for cleaning. He'd asked for the vest and boots to be returned, but told them they could burn the rest for all he cared. His guards had stationed themselves outside the clinic door, which they left open in case the doctor had any trouble with him.

Grunting out an affirmative to the doctor's question about his scars, Daryl startled a bit when the cold stethoscope was pressed to his back, gripping the table with both hands and starting to sweat, willing himself not to tremble. He felt vulnerable with the man behind him and his heart rate started to climb.

"Take a deep breath in... and then out, please." Carson asked, checking the breath sounds on both sides. Coming around the front to listen to his heart, the doctor squinted with sympathy at the deep bruising he saw that extended around Daryl's torso.

Daryl tried to calm his breathing, focusing on the fact that Carol was nearby and safe; that so far his ruse seemed to be working and that the more he learned about these people the closer he was to getting her and the others out of here.

"You've been through hell, haven't you?" the doctor mused sympathetically and then dropped his voice into a low whisper, with a gesture of his hand indicating the "W" shaped scar on Daryl's forehead that had been revealed during the swipe of the thermometer gauge across its surface.

"How long did the Wolves have you?" Carson asked quietly.

"Long enough." Daryl said stoically.

"How did you escape?"

"Luck." Daryl shrugged, "They were attacked by another group and I got free in the chaos."

"That before or after you lost the rest of your people?"

"After. Got caught in one a' their traps." Daryl said, trying to keep the details to a minimum. Lying was easier if you didn't have too much to remember and it at least the core of it was truth.

"The trucks?" Carson winced sympathetically. They'd obviously had to deal with the Lupus Dei and his pack at some point.

"Yeah—no game to speak of in the woods for days." Daryl shrugged, "Got hungry, got stupid. They had the perfect bait."

"Food." Carson nodded. "Well, there's plenty of that here. We have a clean well, stockpiles of canned and dry goods, several hydroponic gardens and we send hunting parties out regularly. If you're any good with that bow that might be a good assignment for you to start. Everyone needs to contribute."

"How many people are we trying to keep fed?" Daryl asked, genuinely curious. It was a tactical question to be sure, but he wondered how successful someone like Negan had been in gathering together survivors and keeping them safe compared to what his group had done at the prison before it fell or what they had tried to do in Alexandria.

"Not sure I'm allowed to share that kind of info—guess we'll just say that's classified for now." the doctor said briskly with a little apologetic grimace.

Next he pulled a pair of shears, a black bandana and a length of leather cording and laid them on the table beside Daryl.

"Boss man says the hair's a problem—your choice—we cut it or get it off your face with one of these."

Sighing, Daryl picked up the bandana and folded it over lengthwise several times until it made a band about six inches wide. He wrapped it around his skull like a fillet so it was covering his forehead while at the same time getting his hair out of his eyes, and tied it in a knot at the back.

"Very Axl Rose...and it hides the scar too." Carson nodded in approval and then his gaze swept down to the many other marks marring Daryl's body. "Well, one of them anyhow."

"Whatever doesn't kill you... is gonna leave a scar..." Daryl muttered sardonically, quoting an old Marilyn Manson song.

"True enough." the doctor chuckled in agreement, but then sobered a bit. "Got a few more questions I'm required to ask." then he winced, looking uncomfortable. "A bit more personal."

"Okay." Daryl nodded, tensing up again, his jaw going tight.

"More mental health questions." Carson said, "You have old ligature scars...on your wrists and ankles...that along with the scarring on your back and your reaction to touch... the time you spent with the Wolves, losing your whole family..."

"You wanna know how I'm keeping my shit together?" Daryl asked, his voice low, tight and sarcastic. "You wanna know I ain't gonna lose my shit n' slit all your throats in your sleep some night?"

Carson sighed and nodded. That was exactly what he was wondering. PTSD was a fact of life after the Turn and a few of the men and women he regularly treated, some of whom had been through much less trauma than this one, had already had breakdowns.

"Because I promised her," Daryl said quietly. "She was the first person to ever tell me I was worth a damn. Told me I was a good man. First person I knew really...that really loved me. Promised her I'd keep tryin' as long as I could."

Daryl looked up and Carson was surprised to see tears in the Archer's eyes. The doctor took that as a silent answer to the unasked question of what had happened to the woman who had loved the scarred man.

"I'm still tryin'" Daryl finished, sniffing and wiping at his eyes somewhat angrily.

"If you really are a good man, Archer?" Carson said, sounding regretful, "Then I'm not sure this is where your woman would've wanted you to end up."

Raised voices in the hallway drew both men's attention to the open door as a distressed looking Carol swept through it, followed closely by Erin, whose mouth came open in surprise to see Daryl there.

"Nah doc." Daryl said, adopting a lighter tone as he stood, holding the towel in place against his body, "I think I'm right where I need to be."

So what happened at Hilltop to put Maggie in charge? Where are Dwight and Carl? Can Daryl and Carol keep up their charade long enough to fool Negan and engineer an escape for all of those taken from Alexandria? Stay tuned...

I love Holiday Break: time to write!

Thanks for sticking with me! Merry Christmas!