Disclaimer: So not mine, Damn.
Notes: I decided to break this up into two/three chapters instead of one 20+ pages long. It should also help with the POV shifts.
I hope I kept Daryl as much in character as possible, he spends most of his time shutting down his emotions, until the shit really hits the fan; that's when it all comes crashing down on him. Hope I got it right!
Thanks for sticking with me! You guys rock!
Chapter Nineteen
(Daryl's POV)
Nobody speaks. Sasha has been sitting in the corner one arm around Mikka and Molly since Tyreese and Glenn regained consciousness. Now there's nothing they can do but wait.
He hates waiting
Glenn sits four feet to his right back pressed flat to the cinderblock wall, knees bent. His hands clenching and unclenching with every footstep that passes overhead.
Tyreese is pacing like a caged animal, 's got a thing against tight spaces; and it don't get much worse 'en this.
Daryl can feel him glancing at him every time he faces him, paces against the wall, checks the door again… They're waiting for him to come up with some kind of strategy; a fuckin plan. An all he can think about is her.
"Look, I say the next time they come down here we just rush them." He's checking the wire grating—hog panels it looks like, but it's solid: they cemented it right down into the cinderblock wall. If flexes but doesn't budge.
"They got guns, aint' coming down here without 'em."
"So what? Better one of us gets shot and the rest have a fighting chance then we just sit here and wait to die."
Glenn curses, rubs a hand over his eyes. Probably thinking about what happened to him in Woodbury, 'cept this time there's no answers to beat out of them.
"Can we not talk about this right now?" Sasha's voice is tight, her eyes dart to Molly curled in her lap. Little girls been crying since they tossed him in here.
"Better a bullet then what those assholes have planned for 'em." His head falls back against the cold wall, stares up at nothing.
"What the hell do you know about this man?" Glenn's on his feet. "What the hell is going on here? I mean if they just wanted our weapons why lock us up? Why not just kills us the second they found us on the road?"
"They found out you were part of a larger group, wanted as many people as possible."
"Yeah but what for?!" Tyreese stops pacing for a moment.
A crack goes off outside.
"Was that…?"
"Gunshot." He's on his feet already, moves to the wire panels trying to see out the small casement window. It's nothing but a grey streaked blur, filthy like everything else in this house.
More shots echo off rapid fire in the night.
"Rick?" Sasha sounds hopeful.
"Nah, Aint Rick." He doesn't even know where they are.
"Walkers?" Glenn sags against the wall again, slides down head in his hands.
"Yeah, Probably Walkers." That's a lot of gun shots.
Fin's out there all alone. He can only hope she's somewhere safe from Walkers. Since it's dark she's probably already safely tucked away high up in a tree, wondering why he's not back yet…
"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll all get eaten." Sasha looks at him needs some kind of hope not just for herself, but for the kids.
"If they all get eaten who's left to let us out of here?" Lizzie's voice is oddly calm still, girls either got stones or is bat shit crazy.
Glass shatters.
Glenn's up on his feet in an instant. "Fuck can they get in here?!"
Daryl doesn't answer. Too busy watching someone slide their foot around the window's interior wood frame; knocking glass shards loose. Two boot clad feet, then black encased legs slide through the tiny space.
"What is it?" Sasha calls, arms wrapped tight around the girls.
She shimmies forward on her back, toes finding the workbench just under the window's opening. She drops down onto its surface the cacophony of gunshots continues outside.
"That's no Walker; Hey! Get us out of here!"
He can't speak. Heart caught in his fucking throat.
She's not supposed to be here. She supposed to be safe from all this. Not sliding through a window rimmed with broken glass in the middle of a Walker horde…
He brings his hands up to rest on the rough cold cinderblock wall just under the wire. Barely registers the rough concrete digging into his palms.
Glares at her so furious he can't see straight.
She moves swiftly from under the open window to stand in front of the wire gap to their prison cell.
His arms are through the wide square gap of hog fencing to his biceps; fingers digging into her upper arms before she opens her mouth to speak.
"You out your damn mind?"
She doesn't pull away from his hiss; doesn't even flinch when his hands tighten on her arms pull her closer to the wire, almost nose to nose, shakes her.
"Someone's got to save your ass."
She is not smiling at him right now.
Not right fucking now when he's having a God Damn heart attack, and all he can hear is Walker's snarling out there, and gun shots, and shouts, and his pulse pounding in his ears…
"Get the fuck out of here right now."
"No."
He glares at her, snarls some of Merle's favorite words. The boiling desire to punch something twisting around his ribs. He opens his fingers instantly, jerks his hands back to slam into the wall between them. She doesn't even flinch, just stands there inches from him, with those infuriating wide green eyes, not even blinking.
"My decision Daryl, not yours. Remember that." She slides her machete still in its leather cover to him through the gap. His hand closes over the leather on reflex, still staring at her. "Just in case."
In case What?!
Fuck that.
"Open this God Damn door." So he can drag her ass the hell out of here.
He pushes back on his hands, starts to prowl back and forth, quick jerking footsteps in front of the wire gap, that both Glenn and Tyreese move rapidly to avoid.
She takes a step back from the wall dust and dirt from the filthy window and table top mark the surface of her long black sleeves. When the Hell'd she change into that outfit? Looks like a fucking cat burglar. He's scowls staring at the stretch of skin visible where the hem of her shirt bunched up crawling through the window. His hands itch to grab it, wrench it down over the inch of luminous skin glowing in the dark. He realizes she's still watching him, something must show on his face because she quirks an eyebrow at him, turns away, fixes the damn hem at least. She starts searching the walls, drawers to find something sturdy enough to damage the door holding them apart.
"Daryl who is…?"
"The girl those assholes are always looking for," He doesn't look away from her shadow moving in the dark. Hurry up.
"No shit." He can feel Glenn's stare even without turning his head. Tyreese is oddly silent.
"Hell you looking at?" He shouldn't be snapping at Glenn, can't help himself. The machete handle weighs heavy in his hand. The Hell she handing him her weapon for? Where the fuck is her bow? She needs this in case those assholes come down here…
He needs to get out of this damn room. He rubs a hand over his face.
She's got a crowbar in her hands when she comes back, moves quickly to the other side of the solid steel door. He follows her, puts his hand against its surface; feels the vibrations in his palm as she works at prying the hinges loose from their mooring.
She works for several minutes, cursing a few times softly when the tool slips with a clang.
He's aware that there are almost no gun shots from outside the window now, they don't have much time before either the family comes back; or Walkers start tearing down the house. Never thought he'd be wishing for Walkers.
"Fin, you gotta hurry up."
"Working on it." Her tone is tight.
Glenn and Tyreese stand crowded against the wire window alternate looking out the broken glass into the dark and glancing at the base of the stairs to the kitchen.
They can all hear voice's now, Ken, Mark, and some of the other men calling back and forth to each other as they check the outside of the house. If anyone opens that door they'll see her standing here all alone…
"Babe, you need to hurry," The urge to kick down the fucking door; wail on it with his fists hounds him…He knows that the sound will only draw them faster…
"Fin…"
"I know."
The sound of someone opening the door to the house upstairs, slamming it closed echoes from the floor above their heads.
"Daryl…" Tyreese's warning comes at the same time he tells her to hide through the door.
He moves to stand beside Tyreese and Glenn at the wire. Stares at her through the square gaps, dread knotting his insides.
It's dark, and she's dressed in black; hopefully if they come down here they won't see her. She had time to hand him the weapon, why couldn't she just get the hell back out of the house? Why the fuck is she still here? If those bastards see her it will be 9 against one…
And they'll all be distracted with getting revenge on her for Caleb's death…
Fuck.
She nods to him eyes holding his in the dark. Panic assails him, overwhelms all reason.
Sends his heart into overdrive, slamming against his ribs. He jerks his head, tries to tell her not to move; to fucking stay there and don't do this...his hands grip the wall separating them. Powerless to intervene.
The door to the kitchen opens heavy footsteps tread down the staircase.
He glares at Mark and Ken through the bars, pure hate raging through his chest, digging at his heart, clawing through his insides till his hands shake against the wall.
"Sorry you missed it, had a bit of excitement up there."
"Damn Shame." Tyreese answers for him.
The wind rattles the open frame catching Ken's attention. "Shit, I thought Robert said they didn't get within thirty feet of the house?"
Mark frowns. "They didn't. checked myself, twice."
His heart beat roars in his ears. Don't do it.
There's still a chance they won't notice her…
He wants to scream when she stand up; creeps forward and smashes the crowbar into the back of Marks head.
Mark falls, collapses to the floor. She takes a second swing at Ken, but he dodges—she's lost the advantage of surprise.
"Eli! Bobby! Get down here!" Mark isn't moving, he groans from the ground.
She's standing close enough to smash his head…one less predator in the room.
"Don't do it girl! You only make this worse."
Eli and Bobby, Caleb's brothers are coming down the stairs they freeze when the see her, but only for a second.
Eli lets out a low whistle. "And here I thought, I'd have to track that sweet little ass for weeks to pay you back for Caleb."
"That's just because you can't track worth a shit Eli." She hiss. "You couldn't find an egg in a hen house."
Ken is chuckling, "Do believe she's got you pegged boy." He glances down at Mark on the ground, "Boys get your uncle up off the floor, that's a damn disgrace in the presence of such a fine sweet young thing."
Eli and Bobby move down the steps she backs off giving them space; staying out of arms reach. The two young men grab Mark by the arms, haul him up. Shooting leers at her. Ken grabs his brothers chin glances at his face as they drag him by. "That was one hell of a hit, going to have to pay you back for that."
"Don't you fucking touch her, you hear me?" He's slamming his hands into the wall fingers itching to wrap around Ken's throat and squeeze until his face turns blue…
"Boys send Robert down," They don't wait long.
"Fin, long time no see." Robert leans down from the doorway. "Why don't you come up here and we can have a chat," Her reply is white noise in his ears, drowned out by the rush of blood. He could be Caleb's twin they're so alike. She's taunting them back on purpose; knows exactly how to get a rise out of them…make them react instead of analyze her choice to trap herself in a concrete box with all of them.
They crowd the doorway to the stairs, Drawn like sharks to blood in the water. And he can't stop them from tearing her apart…
A crack of gunfire goes off in the basement there's a blinding muzzle flash from the stairs, several of the boys stumble back but his eyes are locked on her. His heart in his throat when she stumbles back…keeps her feet under her, hand drops to her left thigh.
They shot her.
Bastard fucking shot her.
Rage tears up out of his throat, phrases and things he'd swear he never used before, cringed when Merle uttered them in the past pour out of him…and there's nothing else he can do…God Damnit…
She's yelling something over his words, he catches the tail end of it. "...I forgot! Caleb's not around for you to catch his sloppy seconds."
Laughter almost rips from his throat, except it's not laughter…it's something else, some sound he's never made before in his whole god damn life and he has to just stand there and watch them attack her like a pack of wolves. Cheap Bastards its six against one.
She twists and spins and lashes out…but it's not enough… she goes down when one of them takes a cheap shot at her wounded leg; takes her down to the ground swarm over her…their hands on her body, touching her…
Everything inside him is screaming…
"Daryl!"
He stills instantly; no one speaks for a few ragged breathes.
"It's okay,"
He doesn't know how Tyreese's hands got around his arms; pulling him back from the wall, how Glenn is there in front of him-eyes wide, hands raised to block him face ghostly white even in the dark.
And it doesn't fucking matter because it's Not okay…
Never can be if he doesn't do something, say something, and stop this…
A strangled sound tears from his throat burning all the way up, "The Fuck it…"
"It was never going to work. You know that right?"
Please, oh God.
Don't do this to him,
not again…
"There's no way I could take that door down, have to be someone three times my size to do that."
"Let's take this upstairs where we can be more comfortable."
He can't breathe. His legs nearly give out under him. He's leaning towards her, feet pushing uselessly against the concrete floor, Tyreese holding him up as much as holding him back…stopping him from tearing his hands into a bloody mess clawing at the wall…
He jerks, twists, kicks out, curses at them…"Say goodbye to your girlfriend," Someone calls out.
He's cursing and screaming, kicking out at Glenn and taking a swing at Tyreese and slamming himself into the door between them, over and over.
And when Tyreese pins his arms to his sides, tries to stop him from doing it again smashing his shoulder into that god damn door until he blacks out: he can hear her.
The only sound over the roaring in his ears …the fire burning everything inside him to white hot ash…
She's screaming.
The sound assaults him, tears him open-claws at his ears, writhes in his chest and shreds his heart into red hot ribbons of agony and guilt consuming him whole.
When he finally comes up for air what feels like years later she's still screaming…
…and it's all his fault.
:: walking dead ::
I wont leave you in the lurch for two long, proof reading next section now... :)
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