A/N: I decided to combine all of this instead of breaking it up. Mostly for the fact that I feel bad I haven't been keeping this updated as regularly. And the last update was short... Enjoy! :)
"He's going to talk to him…" Carol filled everyone in once she stepped foot back inside D Block. Glenn, Hershel, and Maggie were all still stood outside Daryl's cell and it was apparent there was no change in the short time that Carol had been gone to go after Rick.
"It's for the best. None of us will be able to get any real sleep around here if we're worried about one of our own turning against us." Maggie crossed her arms just as Glenn placed a hand on the small of her back. It was meant as a comforting gesture, that everything would settle and that they'd have nothing to worry about.
"Rick knows what he's doing. If anyone can get through to Carl, it'll have to be him," Hershel assured. "For now let's just resume back to normal and wait for Rick to let us know where to go from here."
The three nodded in agreement. Carol and Maggie decided to head over to C Block to check in and see how things were going. Carol would check on Judith and Beth while they both would fill their people in on the news thus far—excluding the bit about Carl for the time being, seeing as they didn't need anyone to panic.
Glenn took a step back and leaned against the wall just outside Daryl's cell, looking in on him. He could see that Daryl was slightly fidgeting and mumbling incoherent words in his sleep. "He's dreaming about something."
"Nightmare, most likely." Hershel frowned as Daryl's eyes clenched shut even tighter.
"Well, should we wake him? Who knows what could be going on in his head right now."
"Probably best we just let him rest. Lord knows he needs it."
Rick slowly took a step back and put his hands in the air. "Carl. Put the gun down." He kept his voice as authoritative as possible, leaning on the verge of assertive. He never imagined his son pulling a gun on him and he was only thankful he didn't hear Carol out and stick with her idea of sending someone else.
"Why should I?" Carl's hand shook that held his pistol. Rick wouldn't doubt for a minute that Carl had it in him to pull the trigger if he really wanted to—but he also knew Carl didn't want to. He could see it clear as day in his posture. His son wasn't a cold blooded killer and if it was up to Rick, he'd do anything to keep that from happening.
"Maybe we both need to take a break. I know you said you wanted me to stop being the leader, I get that. And sometimes I agree with that. Maybe just for a while…until things clear up a bit… Maybe I'll ask Glenn or Tyreese what they think is best. Hershel too."
Carl slightly lowered his gun but if he managed to pull the trigger it would still prove to be a fatal shot. "What about me? What about Daryl? The Governor?"
"If you think it's best, I'll let you stay on watch. Otherwise I think you should head down to C Block for a bit. Daryl's still on the mend and we'll keep a close eye on him." Rick paused as he mulled over what he could tell Carl about the Governor. Nothing he could mutter up would satisfy Carl at this point though—he just wanted the man dead. And Rick didn't blame him. "As for the Governor, we just continue like we are. We have to sort things out."
Carl huffed, giving his father a once over before nodding and sliding the Browning BDA back into its holster. "Fine, but I'm staying up here. You can send up whoever you want after my watch is done."
"Thank you." Rick bowed his head in a nod and lowered his arms back down at his sides. He wasn't sure if Carl was telling the truth about Daryl or not, about his so-called plans. He knew Carol and Maggie would never have a reason to lie about that sort of circumstance though and the thought of Carl smothering Daryl on his own freewill had Rick more than concerned. But what was he supposed to do? He was treading on thin ice. If he pushed too much, he feared Carl would only push right back. He'd just have to give him some space until they both cooled down. They could talk then.
And as Rick placed his hand on the door knob to leave the watch tower, he turned his head to look back at his son. "…I don't want you to make the same mistakes that I've made."
"I won't."
The only thing Daryl knew was that the prison was falling. The walls around him were crumbling and the nearby explosions sent a rattle through his chest. The Governor was winning the war and there was nothing he could do but run. The sheath that hung from his belt was knifeless and his crossbow was God knows where. He rounded another corner in the dark corridors of the prison only to come face to face with a pack of hungry walkers lurching his way.
Daryl backtracked only to feel like he was somehow dropped into the middle of a goddamn maze. It was as if the halls were changing before his eyes, like every turn he made only brought him round in a full circle. There was another explosion that rang through the air and he had finally found a light source at the end of the hall. He raced toward it as fast as his feet could carry him in hopes of making it out of there.
But what he was met with was anything but glorifying. The very sight almost had him retching on the floor, falling back as he tripped over his own feet and barely managed to keep himself propped up on his hands. It was Rick and Carl and Judith—and they were all dead. Carl had turned, his entire left arm missing as he chewed away at Rick's shoulder. And Judith writhed around on the floor, her dead prying infant hands reaching for her brother.
Daryl shot his hand up to cover his mouth as he just barely managed to get back on his feet. He abruptly turned to run back into the tombs of hell and stopped when he ran straight into another familiar figure. He could already hear the low guttural growl deep within his brother's throat, daring him not to meet his eyes. The blood on his shirt only meant that he had been shot in the chest. The one fatal gunshot wound that the Governor provided, leaving Merle as a walker.
"No, no, no…" Daryl felt paralyzed. His eyes ended up meeting Merle's dead ones without even a thought and he pushed him away, tears in his eyes, as Merle tried to clumsily grab him.
With no other choice, Daryl bolted past the Grimes family and away from Merle. And before he knew it he had found his way outside. The sky was an overcast of grays as a storm rumbled off in the distance. He heard screams, he heard gunfire, more explosions. There was a fire that covered a good portion of the prison where everyone had resided in C Block and Daryl knew that he'd be lucky if anyone survived.
So he pushed on. Survival had become innate, even though he had nothing left to fight for. A shower of bullets nipped at his heels in that moment as he ran toward the hole in the fence and covered his head like it made a damn difference. He felt a sharp pain as a single bullet tore through his right calf and he fell flat on his face, stretching his palms out just in time to vaguely catch himself which only sent a new sharp pain through both of his wrists.
The raining bullets seized as though whoever had been firing wanted him to get up and keep running—to live. And as much as he wanted to just lay there and wait for a walker to grab him, wait for the bullets to pick back up, he knew he couldn't. There was something in him that was too damn stubborn to throw in the towel and give up.
Daryl worked his way back to his feet, hissing in pain once he applied weight to his right leg. He pushed on though and he made it through the clearing in the fence. He limped his way through the trees and deep into the woods. All of the walkers barely seemed to notice him as they all rushed for the prison, the sights and sounds overwhelming to the dead.
He shook the image of Merle, Rick, and the kids from his mind and wiped an arm under his nose. His vision blurred with tears and he fell to his knees, too exhausted to care, too exhausted to keep going. His lungs burned due to insufficient air and he realized he should have taken a break sooner. He might as well have.
Daryl looked down at the ground in front of him and noticed he was practically sitting next to a small creek. He leaned forward and placed his hands into the cool water, providing some relief to the pain in his wrists and palms. But when he looked down into the water, he saw the reflection of the Governor standing over his shoulder.
Daryl gasped at the revelation and jerked back to try and get on his feet. Only he felt a harsh grip on the back of his neck thrust him forward, plunging his head underwater. He tried to pry himself free from the Governor's grip, tried to kick out and throw him off but to no avail. He was going to drown. After all of the running and the so-called fight for survival, this was how it ended for him.
If he had a preference, he would have rather met his final days with a bullet. He'd even take getting eaten alive by a herd of walkers over drowning. It all seemed a lot faster in the end…
Daryl's eyes shot open as he choked and tried to sit up. He was wrenched back by his right wrist, the force causing him to see what he was caught on while he kept tugging. It took him a minute to realize that he was handcuffed, the metal clanging against metal reverberating in his ears. His eyes searched the small room suddenly aware that he was in one of the cells sprawled out on a bed. A distant clacking and he was met with Hershel's stare.
"Rick—" Daryl choked out his name, unable to comprehend whatever Hershel was saying. He wanted Rick. He needed to know that he was okay, that he was still alive. It had been a while since he'd had that vivid of a dream and he figured he had his fever to blame.
Hershel's hand was pressed against his shoulder. "Glenn's gone to get him. You have to try and calm down though."
Daryl shut his eyes and tried to regain his breath. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he draped his left arm across his eyes. He pulled at his right wrist again only to receive more clanging from the cuffs hitting the metal. He felt sick and he needed to sit up. His back hurt and he had no way of moving to try and fix that.
"They'll be here as soon as they can." Hershel's hand left his shoulder. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
"…M'gonna be sick," Daryl muttered from under his arm. "Back hurts real bad."
"Can you show me where?"
Daryl slowly moved his arm from his face and carefully placed his hand just below his ribs.
"Just the one side or both?"
"Both," Daryl half whimpered and cursed under his breath. He immediately buried his face under his arm again, wishing he could just curl up and go back to sleep so long as no more dreams haunted him.
Footfalls echoed from out in the cellblock and Daryl barely registered Glenn and Rick's voices floating through his cell. There was more rattling of metal on metal before the cuff was removed from Daryl's wrist. It was in that moment that Daryl felt something trying to rise up from the back of his throat. He swallowed it back down but that only caused him to choke as he clumsily threw himself forward, his balance thrown out of whack before he ended up smacking into the wall. He groaned, his eyes still shut tight. Everything felt like it was moving and he didn't have the strength to sit up right, still leaning against the wall.
Daryl felt someone set something down in front of him, causing him to crack his eyes open to see what it was. And of all things, he was thankful to see that bucket. He gripped a hold of it and pulled it closer to him, unable to really move himself from the wall. His stomach felt like it was in knots. He wasn't even sure when the last time was that he actually ate something. A few dry heaves racked his frame until he felt acid burning the back of his throat and caused him to shudder. The pain in his back intensified with every uncontrollable jerk of his body.
Daryl hugged the bucket to himself with his right arm while he draped his left arm over the top of it, providing his head some place to rest. He felt like he was only half conscious. His eyes felt heavy and he wasn't sure who was there in the room with him at that point or if they were saying anything. The only thing he knew for sure was that he felt like complete and utter shit.
