I apologize for the lateness, but you all know my legitimate excuse. My studies are going well so far, but it's just the beginning. Here is another long awaited chapter filled with action and what I like to think is angst. I was disappointed to see very few names return to review, but I understand that everyone is in school now and at work so I am not at all surprised. I hope everyone is doing well in their studies and in their job!
I would like to thank those who have reviewed chapter 18...Katnthe box, KilalaInara, thewalkingdestroyer, igottoomanyloves, missy7293 and anonymous reviewer guest.
Thank you who has favorited and followed my story! Thanks again!
Please Enjoy and Review!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters. They belong to their respectful owners. I only own my OC(s).
Chapter 19
The tracker was unworried about his woman inside the tower. She was safe and protected within the concrete walls. Nothing could hurt her. All of a sudden, the tower exploded, the glass shattered. Daryl and the others turned away, throwing their arms over their heads to protect themselves from the debris or lack thereof that flew. Daryl recovered quickly and froze in his steps when smoke began to slither from the broken windows. Everything inside him went numb, the blood leaving his face. He let out a cry of anguish and lunged for the tower, only to be stopped by more gun fire, a restraining arm and bullets that missed him by mere inches. The world seemed to turn on itself and darkness of horror fell over him.
"NOOO! MaryJane!"
Consciousness began to prick in MaryJane's mind. It began as a throbbing pain that spread slowly through every nerve in every limb of her body. Her eyes began to flutter as light began to glare behind her lids. Feeling sparked in her head, her skull pressing against the hard floor. She clenched her fingers, feeling small objects move as she pulled her digits in to make a fist.
Distant sounds flowed into her ears, a ringing distorting it like in a movie where someone is right beside something that blows up. Her eyes opened, the sight of the cracked ceiling above her blurry. She blinked slowly as her head began to move side to side, trying to focus despite the pain in the side of her head. The entirety of her was stunned and felt very bruised, why she didn't know. It hurt to think, her brain feeling as if it was about to explode out of her skull like a bullet shooting through it. That would probably be a relief to the stuffy and pounding throb. Suddenly, white pain shot through the right side of her skull and she groaned, wincing away. She pulled herself to a sitting position, the elevation relieving the agony that flared. Her head lifted as she inhaled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. That wasn't the night air she smelled. No, it was something else. As her vision began to clear her eyes widened as she felt the heat of flames just feet away from her body.
Her vision started spinning as her dazed whiskey eyes moved around her, watching the rising fire, briefly looking over the pieces of concrete that littered the shattered tower top. The desk was in pieces, papers everywhere and feeding the hungry fire that drew ever so close. Somewhere, it clicked in her hazy mind that she was in danger and that natural instinct kicked in, bringing the sweet adrenaline with it. Face slack with fear and gob smack, she let out a gaspy cough as panic was struck like a match in her gut. As quickly as she could, she reached behind her with her hand, grabbing whatever she could to pull herself up. As she leveraged herself into a standing position with a section of the wall, the adrenaline slipped through her legs, giving her strength to move. She didn't even feel how the flames had already licked some of her exposed skin. Smoke slithered into her body as she heaved for real oxygen and limped towards the stairs that led down to the exit. The red heat seemed to follow closely behind her, desperate and hungry for her flesh. Her heart pounded in her chest as she hobbled across the seemly mile long room, nearly tripping over a few pieces of large debris that disturbed her path.
She didn't notice the peeking of stars above her head from where part of the ceiling was missing. Sweat began to drop down her face as her attempt to escape the inferno became more strenuous due to the excessive inhalation of grey smoke that ached to clog her lungs. It felt like hours before she felt her shaking hand touch the door to the stairs. To her relief when she turned the knob it opened the door. The fire didn't let up on its chase of her as she limped down the stairs, her ankle aching dully. It was hard for her to tell if it was sweat that dripped down her face or blood. She came to that realization when she wiped away what she thought to be sweat, but pulled her hand back to find that crimson stained the back of her hand. Her bottom lip began to quiver as a large wave of panic slammed into her, causing her hand to slip from the rail and her body to plunge the rest of the way down the stairs and into the waiting floor. She landed feet first, hearing the sickening crack in her ankle before she felt the hot flash of pain that flitted across her foot. Her small body slammed into the hard floor, jarring her brain and bones. She felt the tears then, through the sweat and blood. Her right ankle sat limp as she laid against the strangely cool floor. The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but numbness began to overtake the fire inside her that ordered her to move. The only thing she felt was the throbbing in her head and the sharp, cutting pain of her ankle.
She let her head fall back against the concrete floor in defeat. She was tired of taking body blows one after the other. The pain and intense and she wanted it all to end. It was tempting to let the fire take her and end the suffering and pain that seemed to rule her entire life. No emotional pain could make up for the physical agony that so eagerly made a home of her mortal form. She was tired and wanted to sleep forever, be damned everything else. The end of life began to feel very good to her, the ending of pain that wracked her mentally, emotionally, and physically. Death would be peaceful, easy and she could just rest. Yes, death, the eternal darkness sounded very good.
Though, her weak mind began to ponder how she got there, in the sticky situation she was so brutally thrown in to. The only thing she could think of was Daryl. Suddenly, the darkness looked pretty lonely, but she still wanted it. Meaning had left her fully, making her uncaring of what she left behind.
The second those thoughts fleeted across her mind, white began to fog around the corners of her vision and suddenly she was shot back in and through time, the universe flying before her, the twinkling stars nothing but blurry as MaryJane moved through space. Where was she going? Her question was answered when her entire sight went white only to fade moments later into a dream? A memory? She didn't know, but it looked so real. She wasn't herself in this vision for she was looking at herself, watching her own body that was turned away from her. Her skin perked when she felt someone else enter the dream and her heart leapt when she saw Daryl. He set his bow on the desk in his cell and walked towards her. He kissed her neck, startling the MaryJane in the vision. She turned around with a gasp, only to smack Daryl on the arm in mock irritation. He only smirked and pulled her against him. MaryJane's vision focused on where his hands slid to and her entire form jerked with life as she noticed his hands protectively cupping her swollen belly.
Then, like a flick of a switch, the vision vanished, leaving her wide awake and staring at the ceiling, sweat beading against her skin as the heat few closer. Suddenly, loud bangs pounded against the metal door only feet away from her. It was almost impossible to make out the desperate grunts from outside.
"MaryJane! MaryJane!"
She suddenly forgot the smoke that filled in her lungs or the pain that seemed to make her body a temple. Her heart quickened even faster, so fast she feared cardiac arrest. Her left temple pressed against the floor, her mouth parting in relief, her lips forming his name, the voice coming forth weak, raspy and not the voice she recognized.
"D...Daryl!"
Daryl shoved from the hold of whoever tried to restrain him. The enemy at the fence was forgotten as only one thought mattered to Daryl. MaryJane. It felt like deadly slow motion to him as he began running towards the smoky tower, his legs moving inches in years instead of seconds. His entire body was numb with dread, his heart pounding with hot desire to get to her, to keep the promise he was always breaking. Not again. After what felt like hours of running he reached the door, throwing his bow aside without a thought, a hand grabbing the handle and pulling. His heart fell into his gut as it stayed firm in its place. The mound of muscle in his chest stopped beating as panic made his eyes widen.
"No...no, no, no, no, no, no!" He chanted in his raspy voice.
With loud grunts he jerked on the handle, turning it and pulling so hard only to fail to get it open. He grew cold.
"Mother fucker! Open up!" He snarled, the smoke reaching his nose.
After moments of trying to get the door to budge he began slamming against it with his shoulder, ignoring the dull ache that followed the rock hard impacts of flesh and bone on metal. He pounded his fists against the door, instinctual, protective terror fueling him on.
"MaryJane! MaryJane!" He hollered, his voice breaking near the middle of her name as dread slowly started to consume him.
Was she dead? Did the blast kill her? Oh, dear fuckin' God, no! No! Please, no! Not like this! Not—
"D...Daryl!"
He barely heard her weak cry, but his ears and mind didn't deceive him. She was alive and she was calling for him! Thank God!
"MaryJane! I'm comin'!" He yelled, his palms pressing against the metal door, wanting to wrap his arms around her.
"H-Hurry!" She gasped as her dry throat cracked, loud, pitiful raspy coughs following her plea.
Daryl felt a little bit of him die as terrible coughs followed her cry to him. The smoke was killing her. She needed to get out before it killed her! Desperation made Daryl pound against the jammed door, yelling in frustration as it didn't budge. He kicked and punched and his adrenaline began to waver as his breaths came out in strained heaves.
"Get outta tha fuckin' way!"
Daryl's head zipped around, his sweaty hair flying as his eyes darted towards the familiar voice. Merle was running towards him, a shotgun in hand and fiery protective determination in his icy blue eyes. The one-handed Dixon slid to a stop only a few short feet from the door and Daryl jumped out of the way as the gun went off, echoing against the night. A loud booming crunch sound of metal against metal, partially deafened the desperate tracker who, without hesitation, kicked the door open, a gaping hole where the door lock had been. He dashed inside, the smoke had filled the entire lower level, encasing the room in toxic darkness. He turned his head and coughed before jumping into the fray.
"MaryJane!" He yelled urgently, his hands moving the smoke away from him so he could see further in front of him.
A raspy, familiar voice wheezed from before the metal stairs and Daryl hurried towards her voice. In the darkness he made out a form lying on the floor and through the darkness and smoke Daryl saw it was she and relief swelled inside him, but it was short lived as he kneeled beside her to see blood caking her face and guilt pitted in his gut. Her whiskey brown eyes were hazed from weakness and pain, the spark of life faded dully, so much that it scared the youngest Dixon into action. Being careful to mind what hidden injuries she might've had, he gently looped an arm under her knees and around her back. His heart jumped into his throat when her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him like he was her life line and at the moment it was very true. She buried her face into his side of his neck, relief echoing in the too slow pace of her heart beat. Daryl turned his face towards hers, meeting her foggy eyes, his own blue ones full of gut wrenching remorse.
"I'm so sorry," He whispered before standing up straight and dashing through the open door.
Merle waited outside, shooting towards the enemy at the gate, sending the open door where smoke billowed out feverish glances of worry. It took too long for his liking, but his brother and surrogate sister finally emerged from the smoke, Daryl's arms holding her close against his lean form, a dark expression of determination carve into his rugged face. His long bangs covered his eyes, almost hiding the flame of fire that danced in his dark eyes. The older Dixon let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded at his brother who alerted everyone of MaryJane's safety.
"Get her to Hershel! And hurry!" Rick ordered as he reloaded.
With a quick nod, Daryl grabbed up his bow, how he did and balance MJ he would never know, and sprinted towards the prison entrance. He glanced down at her to see her eyes had closed, lips parted, skin pale and blood drying on her skin and in her hair. More was leaking from a wound on the right side of her head which did nothing but kill Daryl inside. She looked like death was warming over and that caused internal fiery turmoil that only made him want to physically beat himself up. This was his fault, she was hurt because of him. She was hurt again because of him. Beth was inside when Daryl burst through the metal door, breathing heavily from the exertion of running and carrying the small woman in his arms. The blonde gasped and cried out in horror at Daryl.
"Where's yer daddy?" He asked breathlessly.
"He's in here..." She led him into the cell block and yelled out to her father who hobbled from his cell, gun in hand.
His kind eyes fell on MaryJane and they widened. "Oh, no! Was she in the tower?!"
Daryl only nodded and strode by him, placing his woman gently on the bed, resting her legs on the bunk then lowered her back and cupped the back of her head to softly place it on the pillow. Hershel's crutches clipped from behind Daryl and he pulled the stool up beside the unconscious MaryJane.
Hershel ordered Beth to retrieve some vital resources and shot his serious gaze to Daryl who looked ready to collapse himself. "We have to wake her and see what hurts. She can't go to sleep, it could mean death."
Daryl's jaw clenched, but he only nodded as he kneeled by the bunk and began gently shaking her shoulders.
"MaryJane, wake up. Open those pretty eyes fer me. I gotta see yer eyes."
He began to smooth what clean hair he could from her face, his fingers smearing in some of the blood that coated her face. Her parted lips closed and her head moved in the slightest, turning towards him. Her eyelids cracked open in the slightest, a weak, but delighted smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Daryl," She wheezed.
"Hey, there, baby, ya gotta stay awake, gotta keep those eyes open fer me an' Hershel, 'kay? Can't go ta sleep on us." He soothed, a blood stained hand moving down to grasp one of her partially limp ones on the bunk.
"Mmm..." She groaned agonizingly. "...but I'm tired...and it hurts."
The mound if muscles that pumped blood through his body cracked at the sound of her voice. "I know it does, MaryJane, but ya gotta fight it. Stay with me, 'kay? Don' clock out on me."
Her eyes slipped closed for a brief moment, but Daryl shook her shoulder, jostling her awake, her eyes glassy with exhaustion, and the effects of the adrenaline having been worn completely off releasing the tidal wave of fresh pain that nearly caused her to black out again. She couldn't stay awake. She was so tired, but not ready to give in to the eternal darkness. She had a light that she wanted to keep and that light was Daryl. MaryJane would fight for him, fight like he did for her. Daryl squeezed her hand when her fingers curled tighter around his in silent emphasis to him that she would fight it all.
Beth returned seconds later with a bowl of water and some gauze. Daryl looked over at Hershel whose head shot towards the sound of the gunfire from outside. His white bearded face then turned solemnly towards the tracker.
"I think ya better get back out there. They need ya." He suggested, anxiety hinting in his calm voice.
Daryl's face hardened and his body tensed against the idea of leaving MaryJane again. She was nearly blown up the last time he left her alone. The elder saw his stubborn hesitation and understood, but the enemy was at their gate, ready for battle and to defend them the groups needed the strongest fighters they could get and Daryl was one of those.
Hershel's gaze locked with Daryl's, showing him the full truth and promise that he held and believed to be true. "I'm not gonna let anythin' happen ta her, but the best thing you can do now is ensure her safety by goin' out there and beatin' those men."
Everything inside Daryl wanted to deny the logic behind Hershel's words like a snake's venom in the human body, but he took to it like a horse to sugar. He couldn't deny it. They needed him out there and if he wanted to make sure MaryJane was truly safe he'd go back out there and not stop until they ran with their tails tucked between their legs or until they were dead. And it wasn't that he didn't trust Hershel with MaryJane, it was because all of his mistakes involving her in the recent past was slapping him in the face. He was taking her for granted and he understood that then. She was mortal, just like he was and she could be broken too. Maybe he'd grown immune to the fact that she would always come back to him, especially since she had after the world went to shit. Perhaps deep inside his mind he thought that she could come back from the dead and return to him. She could, but not in the way he would want. He'd been a bitch all the time and it took the recent events of terrible things to make him fully see what Merle and Carol had been talking about. One day she would be gone and couldn't come back to him. One day he would be alone and he would kick himself for allowing the days and moments of their fallout to be in more separation. He'd taken everything for granted, but not anymore. Things were going to change.
Daryl nodded to Hershel and stood, allowing Beth to kneel in his spot next to MaryJane. Her fingers tightened around his, making him freeze in his steps to move away.
"Be careful," She coughed, a little sparkle of life breaking through the glassy mist in her brown eyes.
He nodded. "I will,"
With that, he squeezed her fingers and their grasps slipped apart and for her that was the moment she was least afraid. He was going to battle, yes, but she knew he would come back to her. There was no doubt in her mind. He would fight, fight like he always did.
Carl felt something prick in the back of his mind. It unsettled him, his head turning towards the dark entrance of the Tombs. His skin began to crawl as a deadly feeling began to rot away at his insides. Pulling his pistol from its holster he headed into the Tombs, the darkness swallowing him. He travelled down the marked halls quietly, ears and eyes alert for walkers. He crept like a bug on the ceiling, invisible to everything around him. He turned down a few more halls when he froze in his steps, hearing deep, whispery sounds from a few halls down. He slid to a silent stop at the end of one hall and slowly tilted his head to gaze around the corner. His blue eyes widened when he saw the distant beam of a flashlight. His blood froze with ice and his heart skipped to a racing beat. They were inside the prison. He needed to tell his dad.
With that last thought he turned back the way he came and made a mad dash back towards the cell block, a hand holding the Deputy's hat on his head. Something else was going on and the young man figured out that the fire fight that was going on outside was just a ruse, the real fight was coming to them...from the inside.
Rick fired his gun, taking cover behind some crates. Daryl had joined the battle moments earlier, looking weary, worried and pissed. The leader couldn't blame him. Shit seemed to have hit the fan and Daryl and MJ were getting most of the shit.
"Rick! Yer boy's a comin'!" Con warned from a few feet away.
Feeling his gut turned in on itself in the slightest his eyes darted towards his young boy, his skinny legs carrying him from the prison, something strange in his gaze. Rick glanced back at the firing enemy and waved his son over, covering him with his own bullets until Carl was safe with him.
"I thought I told you ta stay with Beth and Hershel." He scolded as he began to reload his six-shooter.
Carl took in deep gulps of breath as he began to speak. "They're—inside."
Rick froze, his eyes darting back to his son, wide and startled. "What?"
"I went into the Tombs and I heard voices and saw flashlight beams. Dad, the bullets flyin' out here is a smoke screen. There's men tryin' to infiltrate from the inside!" Carl explained logically, his eyes dead on his father, hoping the older man would understand.
Daryl froze and threw his head towards Rick and Carl, his face going white and heart stopping in its adrenaline fueled tracks as the weight of the kid's words shoved against Daryl and an itching sensation prickled at the bottom of his feet to run, to stop this who dared to attack them on the inside. Rick's eyes met Daryl's horrified ones, not surprised that the man he considered a brother had heard Carl. His gaze locked with Daryl's, seeing a familiar desire in his eyes to run and put a stop to every and any threat towards what he loved. But, they were in a sticky situation. The Governor and an army of men lined the front fence row and it was difficult to pick them off. They needed every able man fighting them off, but if there were others sneaking through an unknown hole in the prison to infiltrate from the inside then they'd be surely and truly fucked. Rick had to think. He couldn't just jump willy nilly towards another invisible enemy. It wasn't that he didn't believe his son, but his hands were tied. He'd have to split the groups up and that would weaken them.
Rick lifted his eyes towards Daryl and the leader shook his head at him, silently ordering him not to move. His blue eyes flickered back to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder as his brows furrowed.
"You're sure?" Rick asked seconds after it processed.
Carl nodded feverishly. They needed to hurry or those others would be on Beth, Hershel, Emily, her boys and Judith who were basically defenseless.
"One-hundred and ten percent sure!"
Daryl cease his gun fire and watched Rick's facial features, waiting for the order to run like hell into the Tombs and annihilate the fuckers. His hopes were dashed when he was ordered to stay behind, striking the match of the deadly Dixon anger. Seriously? The tracker sprinted over to them, sliding into a sitting position to avoid the flying bullets. Rick sat motionless as a plan formulated in his head. He turned towards his son, placing a serious, firm hand on his shoulder.
"Carl, I want you to take me, Michonne, Charlie and Slim into tha Tombs, hopefully they'll still be there." Carl nodded as Rick turned his Officer Friendly stare onto Daryl who looked ready to explode. "Daryl, I need you here ta keep firing at them, distactin' 'em."
"I ain' gonna jus' fuckin' sit 'ere an' let somethin' happen ta MaryJane!" Daryl snapped back through clenched teeth.
Rick sighed. "None of us are gonna let anythin' happen ta MaryJane, Daryl. They ain't gonna make it inta tha cell block, I promise you."
Daryl grimaced at Rick. "Why me?"
"'Cause I know you can handle yerself out 'ere. The others need a leader while I'm gone and I'm countin' on ya ta be that leader. If ya wanna protect MaryJane—" Rick pointed to the enemy at the gates. "—then make sure those bastards don't get through."
He hated it. He fuckin' hated it! Why did he have to stay there and not go with them? While a part of him was prideful of what Rick said the protective part wanted to spit his leader bullshit back into his face and curse him…but he didn't. Something held him back, it was a familiar feeling he'd given in to since Rick came into his life. Submission. He trusted Rick and he hadn't given the redneck a reason not to trust him. He could trust MaryJane with him and he could trust his brother's heart with him as well. After a few tense moments of silence Daryl finally nodded. His leader nodded back and smacked his son's arm softly to get him to retrieve the others. Rick glanced back at Daryl who looked defeated and just offered him a comforting pat on the shoulder before following after Carl who had managed to grab the people his father wanted.
Daryl watched them secretly run back to the prison, hiding behind walls and amongst the tall grass as to not alert the enemy that they had made their inside men. His heart tortured him inside his ribcage to go after them, but he withheld the urge. He had the rest of the people outside depending on him and his order. He glanced over at Con who stared at him seriously, shotgun cupped in both of his aged hands. Daryl nodded to him and lifted his own rifle and turned to fire at the threat known as the Governor. The ringing of Daryl's gun exploded, walkers in the distance turning towards the sounds and slowly limping towards it amongst the dark trees.
As the small group ran towards the Tombs, Carl and Rick briefed them on the situation, ordering them to keep alert and ready for anything. They followed Carl into the darkness, keeping their flashlights trained towards the ground close by as to not alert the enemies inside. All was quiet until they reached the middle of the trail into the Tombs, the hushed echo of voices from not too far ahead. With a signal of his hand everyone skidded to a stop, he peeked around the corner to see shadows down another hallway. A quick plan formulated in his head and he signaled for Michonne and Slim to go across the hall into the other turn that was parallel to the wall they all leaned against. He turned to Charlie and Carl, telling them to retrace their steps and come in behind the group just in case they tried to make a run for it. Carl, knowing the Tombs like the back of his hand, signaled for Charlie to follow him and they took off back the way they came. Rick hoped they'd make it in time. He lifted his pistol and leaned it against the wall, turning his eyes towards Michonne and Slim who nodded to him. Now all they could do was wait.
And to their relief, they didn't have to wait for the steps grew faster towards them. Rick's blue eyes locked with Michonne's dark ones. They listened as the steps grew closer and closer, the tension coiling in Rick's gut, his heart pounding in his chest and for a moment he was looking into Shane's dark eyes, those eyes of a friend who long since died. It almost felt like he was back in the police force, about to ambush a house full of meth labs. He blinked and nodded to Michonne who returned it and they swung around their corners, pointing their weapons at the intruders who skidded loudly in alarm at the sudden obstruction. Guns raised and triggers were cocked. Rick's eyes ran over every face he could see in the darkness. There were a few that were shaded.
"Put down your weapons!" Rick yelled, sounding very much like a cop.
"Fuck you!" A voice replied.
"If you don't put your weapons down I will shoot you!" He added, his aim already locked on one of them men's heads.
"Do it, mother fucker!" Another challenged.
Don't tempt me. Rick thought bitterly.
Rick's eyes caught movement from behind the startled group to see his son and Charlie there, guns raised and he repeated his order.
"I repeat, put your weapons down!"
"Why don't you, shithead?!"
That was it. Rick pulled the trigger and his bullet tore through the man's skull, killing him instantly. Blood splattered against the wall and one of his comrade's, startling him.
"Pity," Rick whispered under his breath before all hell broke loose.
The others pulled their guns, but Charlie and Carl took them down before they had a chance to raise their guns. The remaining men, realizing they were outnumbered, panicked and began shooting. Michonne twirled her katana around, taking a man's arm off and ending his life with a stab to the brain. Slim had ducked around the corner to reload while Rick mercilessly killed the Governor's men, feeling his chest elate with his success in protecting his family. Bodies littered the hallway, blood staining the walls, the stench of death already festering in the air like a bad perfume at the mall. One last man threw his gun down and curled into the wall next to one of his fallen buddies, crying and begging for mercy.
"Please! Please! Don't kill me! Please! Have mercy!"
Rick reloaded his pistol and approached the man, cocking his trigger and pointing it at the man, heartless staring at the shadow tainted body.
"Why shouldn't I? Give me a reason." He hissed raspily.
Ever so slowly the face turned away from the shadows and Charlie pointed his flashlight at the man and everybody in the hallway froze when the face became painfully familiar. Big hazel eyes stared pleadingly up at Rick, his face pale and beaded with sweat of anxiety. It was almost like someone had punched Rick in the gut…that was the level of emotion he felt before he grew deeply numb inside, ice cold cruelty turning him into a man of solid ice with a glare to match.
Jeremy.
Rick didn't lower his gun as his eyes widened which didn't reassure Jeremy. The leader's face grew stony as he took a step closer towards the kid, nearly pressing the barrel of his gun against the skin of his forehead.
"You've got alotta explainin' to do." Rick growled.
All that was heard in the hallway was the deep swallow of Jeremy Duncan.
"Book 'em, Dan-o," Rick whispered to himself as he grabbed the kid by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.
Charlie and Slim flanked the kid who tried meeting their eyes, but only managed to receive glares of unfeeling ice. Rick turned towards the ring leader of the group of dead bodies that were scattered across the floor. He was a Hispanic man with dark hair and facial hair. Somehow he looked strangely familiar to Rick, but he ignored it. His fingers curled around the handle of his knife in the belt around his waist and kneeled before the body. Carl watching his father, uncertain of what to think of what his father was doing.
Daryl had ordered a temporary cease fire. They didn't need to waste bullets they didn't have so the members on the front line took shelter from the gun fire which seemed never ending. Daryl was briefly reminded of the story of England in WWII when the Germans dropped bombs on the country for days and nights without end. Suddenly, the redneck understood what the people of England must've felt like.
"Daryl!" Con called from feet away.
His eyes darted over to him, a bullet grazing against the top of the wooden crate he sought cover behind.
"We can't hold out fer much longer! We gotta do somethin'!" He yelled.
Daryl sighed heavily and opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice broke through the gunfire, the firing ceasing with a called order from the Governor hundreds of yards away.
"You lose!"
The tracker's dark eyes shot towards Rick who carried a bag in his hand, his gaze narrowing on the sack suspiciously. Something dark stained the bottom of it and an itching feeling tickled Daryl in a bad way. Rick stopped before the first gate, his slightly maniacal blue eyes meeting those of the Governor who stood atop his truck, that black patch over his missing eye.
"Ya think you could fool us! You lost! I killed your men! All of 'em! Not such hard asses!"
The Governor stared at him with emotionlessly, but the slight clenching of his jaw signaled to Rick that he got a response. So, he pulled forth his secret weapon, opening the bag and grabbing whatever it was at the top and pulled it out. Daryl's eyebrows shot up as Rick's hand was curled around the dark hair of a head. Merle's eyes grew wide as the face of the beheaded man was Martinez. He'd been friends with him at one time…before he went rogue. Despite the evil man at the gate looking less than impressed he did look pissed. Martinez had been in close with Philip and considered a good friend. No doubt it would only piss him off more, but at the moment Merle felt slightly liberated. Martinez was dead, one less threat to him, Beth and Daryl. But Merle was confused about how Rick managed to get his head.
"Your little plan failed! You ain't hurt us yet! Get tha fuck outta 'ere!" Then he threw the head towards the Governor, over the gate. "And take your man with ya!"
Rick heaved as silence filled the battlefield, both sides holding their breaths, waiting for an explosion of gun fire, maybe another real one that nearly killed MaryJane. Though, it never came. All they heard and saw was the trucks starting up and driving away. Disbelief flowed through the groups like a shared sickness, releasing the breaths they'd been holding, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. Rick's eyes locked with Philip's and both leaders silently agreed that it wasn't over. It was never be over until one of them was dead, their respected homes were in flames and the people they cared about dead.
Besides, the Governor didn't really lose. He'd attracted the attention of walkers from miles around. The pricks would have their hands full with trying to take out the growing population that strained their fences. So, he didn't leave any less confident than he came. He may've lost an important asset in the prison and a few good men, but they could be replaced. The boy was just collateral damage and despite his anger at how such a perfect plan was ruined another would come. The kid got what he deserved. He personally thought. He was mental, not a loss to the world. Philip was positive that it wasn't the end and he'd come back again with another plan to rid the people of the prison forever.
The groups sat in dead silence for the longest time until Katie spoke softly, saying it was over and it was then cheers broke out. Maggie hugged Glenn, Slim and Con kissed their wives. Merle only grinned at Rick who slapped his son's shoulder in a fatherly manner. Daryl stood and stared at the empty space where the Governor had been in shocked disbelief. It was over. Though, the rejoicing was soon cut off when Rick placed his hands on his hips and grew hard and solemn, the destroyed watch tower smoldering behind him ominously into the dark sky.
"We've got a problem."
Every mouth closed shut with the snap of their teeth, the flushed faces of joy grew pale again. Daryl stiffened and brandished his cross bow, the protective impulse triggering his need to eliminate whatever the problem was.
"Whadaya mean?" Con asked as he wrapped a protective arm around his wife's waist.
Rick's eyes flickered to the ground towards Katie, then back to the others in the group before landing on Daryl and staying there. The tracker's eyes squinted at the strange look in Rick's eyes, his stomach coiling.
"We caught one o' tha intruders and he, uh…it's someone we all know."
Daryl's eyes shot to Merle for a moment before going back to Rick. The leader went silent before taking a few steps closer to the confused redneck.
"It was Jeremy."
The face of the youngest Dixon grew grim, his jaw clenching tightly and hands curling tighter around his bow. Gasps echoed through the group, Katie's face wearing an expression of pure horror.
"We've got 'im in a cell, but under no circumstances is anyone ta go near 'im without my permission." Officer Grimes ordered, the demand hinted mostly at Daryl who was tensed, ready to run.
"You're lyin'! Jeremy'd never do that!" Katie yelled, ignoring Con when he tried to shush her.
Rick turned towards Katie, Daryl's cold eyes flashing over to the older woman with hatred. She was so blind, tempting Daryl to walk over there and smack her across the face. He wanted to hit something at that moment. The rage boiled angrily inside him like lava inside a volcano near the climax before an eruption.
"After e'erythin' that little shit's done ya think he ain't got tha goddamned balls ta do this?!" Daryl snapped, stalking a few steps towards the older couple.
Katie stared in wide eyed shock at the younger man she only known for almost a month, the man her surrogate daughter adored. Seeing he had her attention, Daryl didn't risk losing it, so with loud hand motions he made his point.
"He's fuckin' stalked 'er, hell, he's almost fuckin' raped 'er! And ya think he ain't gonna go ta tha goddamned Governor fer help, knowin' he can kill me and take MaryJane fer 'imself while tha Governor kills the rest o' ya'll?!"
Quiet followed Daryl's explosion, but eyes were averted as most everyone saw the truth behind his explanation. Con's wife looked ready to cry, but it wasn't because Daryl yelled at her, but because she was starting to see the truth herself. The thirty year old man had no regrets for yelling at her or anyone else. With a scoff and the shake of his head, Daryl stalked off, not waiting to hear someone's retort in defense of the little bastard. Dark hair hung in his eyes as he stalked towards the prison, murder in his dark blue eyes. Moments later he was joined by his brother, Rick, Maggie and Glenn who glanced at Daryl nervously, waiting for another explosion. He knew they had caught back up with him to keep him from going for Jeremy. While that was on his mind, there was something more important pressing on him and she was lying in the care of Hershel Greene.
Hershel looked over when a shadow blocked the entrance. His expression softened when he realized it was only Daryl, the tracker's eyes only on MaryJane. The vet took in the man's form, frowning at the pure exhaustion and lost countenance in his hair hidden eyes.
"How is she?" He asked, the deeply accented and raspy voice almost inaudible.
"She's fine now, restin' mostly…" He trailed off as Daryl set his bow down and sat on the edge of the bed next to MaryJane's knees, his expression filled eyes staring at her.
The fear in Daryl's eyes only gave Hershel hope. It was refreshing to see someone look at another person that way. He knew that Merle must've looked at his Bethy that way if Daryl looked at MaryJane like that. It was reassuring and uplifting. He'd been sitting by MJ's bedside, praying to God for her quick recovery, knowing that Daryl wouldn't want to live should she leave him. He prayed for Daryl, his daughter and Merle. He prayed that God would grant mercy on them and not take any more people away. Like Daryl, Hershel was tired of losing people too. He didn't want it to start again with MaryJane.
"…she's gonna be jus' fine. Jus' a few minor burns on her arms and hands—" Daryl's blue eyes flickered to the bandages on MaryJane's forearms and hands. "—she's suffered from a minor case of smoke inhalation, so she doesn't need to speak for the next few days, but all that she needs is rest and no stress whatsoever. I'd say she'll be back to normal in a week."
The tracker remained silent throughout Hershel's entire informative evaluation, just letting the information sink in.
"If you hadn't have gotten to her when ya did then she would've died from tha smoke."
The youngest Dixon stiffened, his hands curling into fists on his knees, his jaw ticking. Another wave of reassurance washed over the white bearded man to see the reaction. It seemed that MaryJane and Daryl weren't seen together much, if at all, for a long while and Hershel had begun to worry if they weren't as serious as they were made out to be. No, he was sure that Daryl still loved her. After knowing Daryl for as long as he has he'd come to the conclusion that once Daryl Dixon…or any Dixon fell in love with someone he'd love that woman for the rest of his life and until he drew his last breath. He hoped the same was for Merle, though, if Daryl was devoted to MaryJane and had been since years before…then Merle could do the same.
"You don't need ta worry too much, Daryl, she's not gonna leave ya that easily." Hershel assured, smiling warmly at the younger man.
Daryl just stood in response, casting a look at MaryJane before turning away, picking up his bow and walking towards the door. The older man's smile faded and returned his gaze towards MaryJane's head wound. He didn't hear Daryl's boots stop in the doorway. When a quiet, almost broken voice whispered from the doorway, Hershel looked up, his eyes falling on Daryl's back which faced him.
"I ain't gonna leave her neither…never."
Without turning back, Daryl left as silently as he came. Hershel stared at the open cell door, his smile crawling back to his face and he picked up the damp cloth in the bowl beside him and ran it over MaryJane's forehead. He whispered to himself, as if reassuring the unconscious woman before him.
"1 Corinthians 13:4-8."
Daryl stalked with purpose through the prison, towards the place Jeremy was being kept. It ends now, all of it. The little shit was going to get what he deserved. Daryl climbed up the stairs, towards the lonely cell where the boy was kept, the same one he escaped from. His steps were silent as he approached, his eyes peering in to see Jeremy with his back against the opposite wall across from him, knees up against his chest and face buried in his arms. His body was slumped with something like defeat, submission.
"Why?" Was all Daryl asked, his voice deep and deadly, no room for bullshit.
Jeremy's head shot up, startled by Daryl's presence and for a moment fear flickered across his pale face. He just stared at Daryl, open mouthed. Sneering, Daryl pulled out a hair pin and unlocked the cell door, putting Jeremy on high alert, his hands coming to lie flat on the floor. Daryl entered, setting his bow on the bunk.
"Get up." He ordered, but Jeremy remained still.
With a seething sneer, Daryl stalked over to him and lashed out like a striking viper, wrapped his fingers around the kid's collar and hauled him to his feet.
"I said 'Get. The fuck. Up!" The tracker hissed before shoving the kid against the wall.
He let out a cry mix with fear and pain. Daryl pulled out his knife and stuck it to his throat, silencing the boy.
"If ya fuckin' scream…I'll bleed ya dry." He growled.
The kid only swallowed and Daryl threw him to the floor, sheathing his knife. Jeremy landed on the ground with a hard thud and grunt. He tried to crawl away, but Daryl slammed his boot onto his back, sending his stomach to the ground with a violent thrust. Jeremy whimpered when something cracked in his chest.
"Ya think ya can get away with what ya've done, huh?" Daryl asked, his voice soft, but deathly sounding.
He removed his boot and kicked his side to flip him onto his back and Daryl climbed over him, straddling the boy's stomach, landing a punch to his still bruised face, Jeremy's hands grabbing at Daryl's shirt to try and get him off, but Daryl, being older and having been trained by Merle to be hard as rock, the all show muscle boy had no real strength.
"Yer gonna pay fer what ya've done, ya little shit!"
Daryl lifted his fist to punch him again, but a strong hand grabbed it, stopping Daryl's attempt to slug the kid again. Zipping his head towards the owner, another pair of arms grabbed his other arm, hauling him up off Jeremy who crawled away. Daryl grunted and yelled, cussing the people who tried to stop him. He came to find that his own brother and Slim were restraining him.
"Fuck you, Merle! Ya best let me go!" He ordered, the volcano erupting.
Rick felt déjà vu unfold as he stepped in front of Daryl, trying to calm him down.
"Daryl, you need to calm down. This ain't tha way to handle this."
Daryl didn't respond, only thrashed harder against his brother and Slim. Rick frowned and signaled with his head for them to get him outside of the cell. Somehow, as they drug him out, Daryl managed to get one arm free and he pointed at Jeremy.
"I'm gonna stomp yer ass!"
"Shut tha fuck up, little brotha!" Merle yelled, shoving him away from him and from the cell.
Daryl snarled at his brother who was handed his cross bow by Rick. Said leader stepped from the cell and closed the door, locking it again, not even caring to go to Jeremy's aid. Con glared at the boy from beside Rick, the side of his rifle against the side of his face, his eyes lost in deep thought. Grimes turned towards Daryl, a hand pointed towards him.
"We gotta be calm 'bout this, Daryl. We ain't gonna get nothin' from 'im by beatin' 'im."
"Gimme a few minutes alone an' he'll be singin' like a damned canary." Daryl retorted, his face curled with a rage that reminded Rick of their first meeting at the campsite outside of Atlanta.
Merle wasn't against the idea, in fact, if it were up to him he'd let his brother get his anger out then come back and interrogate the kid. Seemed only logic to beat him to get information. Though, he wasn't in charge, Officer Friendly was and that was a damned shame. The kid needed a lesson and both Dixons could show him what kind of consequences came from betraying their family. Rick kneeled on the balls on his feet in front of the cell door, a piece of his curly hair falling onto his forehead.
"Jeremy. This can be easy and painless if you just tell us why you've done this—"
"Why should I tell you anything? You've already sentenced me to death!" He snapped back, curling against the frame of his bunk.
That was true and Rick wasn't about to deny it. It wasn't like the kid wasn't deserving of it.
"You've threatened members o' this group and you've assaulted and nearly raped tha one woman ya claim ta love and adore. You've lead tha Governor and 'is men 'ere and tried ta get 'em inside ta harm us. Why do ya think we've decided ta kill ya!?" Con snarled, taking menacing steps towards the cell door.
Pure betrayal stained Jeremy's face as he gazed at Con. It was ironic that days earlier he was willing to sell the older man's life to the Governor in exchange for MaryJane. Con felt no pity towards the boy he'd once considered a son. That boy was dead and the silver haired rancher didn't even recognize the man that sat in the cell. Jeremy turned his watery eyes back to Rick. His bottom lip trembling, his face turning red, the veins in his head starting to pop out as he clenched back what Daryl thought was either a mental breakdown or a mental explosion.
"Whadaya want from me?" He asked stiffly, sounding like a victim on a crime TV show rather than the guilty murderer.
Rick kneeled down on the balls of his feet, resting his forearms on his knees.
"We wanna know why. Did you bring the Governor here ta kill us?"
Eerie silence followed, Jeremy's eyes full of tears, his face growing red and his jaw clenching. Everyone braced for the explosion that happened just seconds later.
"Alright! You want me to confess! I'll fuckin' confess! I brought the Governor here to kill every single one of you! Then once you were all dead I'd walk over your dead corpses and claim what was mine! Then…after abiding my time I was gonna kill the fuckin' one-eyed psycho too! Then I'd be in full power and MaryJane would've been mine!" He exploded, jumping up from his seated position and lunging for the door like an insane asylum inmate, making Rick scramble to his feet to back away.
Daryl swiped forward, Rick placing a restraining hand on the tracker who glared at the kid in the cell. "Ya think yer so fuckin' clever, huh? In yer little plan tha Governor blew up the watchtower wit' MaryJane inside! She almost died 'cause o' ya! She's fightin' fer 'er life right now 'cause o' yer damned greed and stupidity!"
The fire in Jeremy's eyes faded, his orbs widening a fraction, the fear clear. "What?"
"Yeah, it's yer fault ya almost killed 'er, Jeremy…"
"No, no, no, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen!" Jeremy yelled, taking a step away from the door, rubbing his hands over his face.
Pulling his shoulder from Rick's hold Daryl took a stalking step forward. "If she dies yer a dead man…and if she lives…she ain' never gonna forgive ya."
The handsome young man lifted his head, tears falling from his eyes and Rick saw the raw remorse in the kid's eyes.
"I didn't mean for this to happen." He whispered, broken.
Daryl scoffed, spat at Jeremy's feet and stalked away. He was done. Rick and Con could do whatever the hell they wanted. He didn't care anymore. All that mattered to him was MaryJane, his desire for vengeance all burnt out. If she lived without any permanent damage then that was all that mattered. He knew a council meeting would be set up after Rick got done talking with the Germ, but he wasn't so sure he was fit to be a part of it. It wasn't up to him anymore.
He stopped just outside the cell MaryJane was lying in, Beth and Hershel at her side. The one-legged man was rubbing a cool rag over the injured woman's forehead. Daryl's heart squeezed uncomfortably as he saw all the bandages on her arms and hands. Beth was humming, stroking MaryJane's hair gently. Sensing his presence, Hershel looked up and over, his expression softening.
"She's jus' restin' now. Woke up some time ago askin' fer ya, but she fell back asleep seconds later." He informed.
The tracker only swallowed and nodded. The white haired man glanced at his daughter.
"I think you outta check in on Judith and the kids." He suggested.
Beth glanced at Daryl then nodded, taking the hint. The blonde laid a soft kiss onto MaryJane's forehead before standing and walking from the room. Hershel stood to go, letting Daryl take his seat. The redneck took the stool, reaching his hand out to wrap it around MaryJane's bandaged one. His jaw clenched and he blinked the tears back, glad that his bangs were partially hiding how broken he was.
"Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all." Hershel began from the doorway. "Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.' To the contrary, 'if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
"Romans 12:17-21." Daryl rasped, his dark blue eyes resting on MaryJane.
Hershel lifted his head with admiration. Both Dixons knew their scripture.
"Are you still dead set on killin' Jeremy for what he done?" The old man asked curiously and worriedly.
Daryl remained silent, grimacing at the bed sheets. Hershel stepped back inside and placed a stern hand on the tracker's shoulder.
"Listen to me, my friend. Revenge won't bring ya any peace."
The youngest Dixon lifted his head to gaze darkly into Hershel's eyes and the older man froze from the cold murder in his eyes. "The moment he laid a hand on MaryJane in violence was the moment peace wasn't no longer an option for me. At that moment he became a dead man."
So? What say everyone? I know the Germ hasn't been annihilated just yet, but his day of reckoning will come, I promise. I am eager for it myself and for what the future holds for Daryl and MaryJane. Do you think the Governor will return or not? Will Daryl and MaryJane finally come together again? Tune in next time! Thank you all again who favorited my story, is following it and to those who reviewed! Such darlings!
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