A/N: Thank you for the views, revies, follows, and favorites - they are all very much appreciated.

So now what is that bastard Pete going to do?

Maybe Pete thought Daryl was getting to be too much to handle, or he just wanted to make sure the hunter stayed in his control. either way, Pete decided to declare that Daryl's "injuries" from those days of the walker attack had gotten worse, not better, and he had to stay in the doctor's home under supervision and treatment until he recovered.

When the others heard this, it wasn't too hard to believe, since Daryl did look like he was getting worse rather than better. Of course, Carol was certain it was a lie. Glenn was skeptical of the doctor's words. Rick was busy keeping the peace along with Michonne. The others in the group were worried but didn't ask questions. All in all, a mere pair of skeptics had no power to look into it.

So Pete led Daryl to his home.

The hunter followed reluctantly, sure this was the last time he'd see the open sky. He'd be a damn fool to think this wasn't an end game for the sadistic man.

Once inside, Pete grabbed the hurt man's still healing broken wrist and quickly led him down the hall. They passed the kitchen, where Jessie stood making dinner. She looked up to see her husband practically dragging someone along. Her heart leaped into her throat as she panicked and thought it was Ron. But no, it was someone bigger.

"Pete? Who's that?" She followed them into the hallway.

Pete's grip on his broken wrist was too tight and they were walking too fast, Daryl practically being dragged along. The usually sure-footed hunter stumbled as his knees gave out. The doctor let go with a rough growl. Daryl skittered back until his back hit the wall as he instinctively pulled away from the impending punishment.

"Honey?" Jessie asked as she stared at the scene. She didn't know Daryl much at all, but she knew Rick trusted him more than anyone. Something wasn't right if the usually stoical and unsociable man was in her house... especially if he was sitting with his back to the wall, shaking and avoiding eye contact.

"Get back in the kitchen," Pete ordered, still focused on the injured man in front of him

"Daryl, are you okay?" She asked anyway, starting toward the fallen man to help him up.

"I SAID GET OUT!" The doctor roared.

Jessie flinched, but not as badly as Daryl. She hesitantly stepped back but didn't leave.

It was enough for Pete. He snarled down at the hunter, "Get up." Daryl tried to obey immediately, not willing to put Jessie in danger by angering him further, but his exhausted and damaged body was reluctant to stand again. He tried to use the wall as leverage but his ribs screamed in protest. A grunt of pain escaped as he tried again.

"You're useless," Pete ground out as he grabbed the struggling man's collar and dragged him up. He shoved the injured man farther down the hall. Jessie blanched when she realized the only thing down there was the door to the basement.

"Pete, please, what did he do?" She spoke gently, trying to fix this. Whatever happened, there was no way Rick's group would have let this happen knowingly. In that case, her husband was doing this for himself, because he genuinely wanted Daryl to be in a world of pain. And when Pete got it in his head to punish someone, he followed through.

"Wanna tell her?" Pete asked, shoving Daryl especially hard to get him to talk. Daryl didn't say anything, so Pete pushed him harder, sending him into the basement door, here his temple smacked into the wood. Daryl tripped but managed to stay upright, his eyes a little glazed from the hit to the head.

"Tell her why you're here."

Daryl looked at him then immediately diverted his eyes, looking at the floor. He worried his lip, anxious about making Pete angrier.

"'Cause I weren't careful?" His southern accent, unique to the mountains of Georgia, was stronger nowadays since he was set back in his old mentality. He sounded young, afraid.

"That's right," Pete said dangerously, sounding almost... excited. "You couldn't take it like a man, keep quiet. Now you're gonna pay for what you've done."

"'M sorry," Daryl mumbled out of habit.

"Aw," Pete grabbed the injured man by the chin. "Don't say that." He leaned in, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You're not sorry yet."

With that, he yanked open the door to the basement and shoved the wide-eyed man inside.

Daryl gasped, but the moment he hit the steps a scream was torn from him as his leg, then an arm, snapped. As he tumbled down the hard wooden stairs, he took more damage than in any beating. When he hit the bottom, his head snapped back and met the concrete floor with a sickening crack.

Pete laughed from the doorway while Jessie stared, horrified. Daryl groaned, his head rolling slowly as his glassy eyes searched the dark basement listlessly. The door slammed shut from above. Daryl shuddered and passed out.

Pain. So, so much pain. The second he came to, his mind screamed as his veins lit with fiery pain. His bones ground and his muscles twitched, strained and throbbing with a deep ache. He didn't open his eyes, terrified to see his own broken body. But he heard soft scuttling, tiny scratches and squeaks. Rats. Some of those things could eat a man alive if starved enough. Daryl's eyes shot open at the thought, and his unfocused eyes searched desperately for the vermin.

He needed to move. He needed to feel a wall to his back, something he was used to. It might mean he was cornered, but it was something solid. Something to keep him focused and upright. So he started to drag himself backward using his good arm, ironically the one with the broken wrist. His right forearm's sharp stabbing pain meant it was broken. It took ages and he passed out a few times, but he made it to the back wall eventually. He sat back against it gratefully, glad he could still do anything, even something that small.

He was so thirsty and his muscles were so sore from immobility, he must've been stuck down there for hours, maybe eight. He was sure he'd die down there no matter whether Pete planned to let him out or not.

He jumped when the door creaked open. Someone came down the stairs. He realized that he was hyperventilating.

"Daryl?" A soft voice called out from across the room. A lady. Jessie, it had to be Jessie his muddled mind told him.

"Jessie?" The broken man whispered, his voice too hoarse to speak much louder. Plus, he had a feeling she wasn't supposed to be down here.

"Daryl," She sighed in relief as she crossed the room to see him. When she got within a few feet, though, he whimpered and backed into the nearest corner. "I'm not going to hurt you," Her voice sounded so sad. He felt bad for making her sound like that. "I want to help."

"Y' can't," He rasped. "He, he'll..."

"It's okay, he's asleep. He doesn't know I'm down here."

"Please," Daryl pleaded with her. "It's not safe."

Jessie knelt beside him, saddened by his instinctive flinch. "How long has this been going on?"

Daryl looked her in the eye, searching for anything mocking. He found only sincerity and turned to look at the ground. "When the walkers, when they got in the gate, I uh..." He pulled his legs up so he could cross his arms and rest his head on them on his knees, almost hiding. "I took cover in the first place I ducked into. Yer garage." He cleared his dry throat. "Uh, closed the door, and he came in, sayin' there was walkers in yer house. An' he," Daryl's voice cracked and he stopped.

"The walkers were inside the walls for three days, how did you get out after... that?"

Daryl's breath hitched but he refused to let that damn tear welling in his eye fall. He weren't gonna cry about something this dumb, he swore to himself. "I didn't."

"What did he do?"

"I cain't-"

"Please, Daryl," She urged, "All this time, he was hurting you inst-... instead of me. I need to know."

Daryl shook his head, thinking. "He, uh, he..." The injured man exhaled shakily, trying to get the words out. "He said me an' mah group were ruinin' somthin' good, an' he said ah don' belong." Daryl paused. Jessie cold tell that being told he didn't belong had hit a deep nerve. She also noticed that the man's accent grew thicker when he was upset. "An' he hit me, but ah din't fight a'cause a Rick. Him, Carl, Judith... we all need this place. So ah tried to be good, I did," Daryl's voice cracked again and he couldn't hold back a small sob. "But he kept hittin' an' kickin'. Din' gimme no water or nuthin', an' when I tried t' get it," He shuddered harshly. "He took up a crowbar."

"Daryl, I'm so sorry," Jessie said quietly. "I didn't know, I just saw he was calmer at home after the attack. I swear I didn't know he was hurting you."

"S'okay," He was trying to calm down but he felt really panicky. "S-s'nothin'. You been takin' it long enough, righ'?"

She paused. "You were protecting us." It was a realization.

He turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "No way out, 'm jus' glad it did s'm good."

"You could have gotten out," She shook her head, "You weren't married to him."

"He's th' damn doctor, an' if Rick knew, he'd kill him. You know Rick would kill him."

"Rick's a good man," Jessie looked affronted. "He wouldn't-"

"Listen, yer nice, but don't think you know us. We ain't stuck in th' past. We protect our own."

Jessie flinched. "I protect my own," She sounded angry. "And we're not stuck in the past. I think you are."

Daryl sat back and inhaled sharply, keeping her within his line of sight now, feeling on edge. "'M not sayin'-"

"What's your problem, anyway? You don't know my life, how can you act like you know Pete? Don't act like you know anyone in this town."

Daryl wasn't sure whether to be defensive or to be angry. "Ah know some."

"Just because he hit you doesn't mean you know him, or me, or my sons."

"Bet ah know 'em better'n you," He growled. "Lemme guess, ya never left 'cause ya thought they needed a dad, an' they never forgave ya."

"How do you-"

"He hit 'em too?" Daryl asked gravely.

Jessie didn't answer.

"'S what I thought."

Jessie stood abruptly and dropped the water bottle she'd brought down for him. She left without another word.

A/N: Hoohoohoo, whaddya think? Not sure what's running through Jessie's mind? Think Daryl's stuck down there? Drop a review if you've got anything to say. I know I would.