Between the Thorns

Chapter 46

Rick moved through the outpost with his gun drawn. The majority of the place was already cleared. Maggie and Jesus had a group of saviors clustered together outside. People they took prisoner instead of killing. But all of them were insisting that they didn't know where the large guns Rick was looking for were being kept. One man was more vocal than the rest, insisting that he and his companions were only workers that were sent to the outpost to repair the fencing. And Rick knew Jesus was inclined to believe him. The fact that they'd already checked through most of the place and come up empty added credibility to the prisoner's story. And Rick was losing hope that they would be able to find the heavy artillery they were looking for. Time was working against him. If the Saviors made it to the Sanctuary with the big guns, the standoff Rick managed to force would be over in a matter of minutes.

Rick kicked a door the rest of the way open, poking his head inside. But the room contained the same basic living accommodations as the rest of the rooms he'd checked. There was a bed with a small table next to it and a chair against the wall. No giant machine guns. As Rick was backing out of the small utilitarian bedroom, he suddenly found himself being attacked from behind. His gun was knocked from his grip, clattering across the cement floor. Rick turned on his attacker, grappling with the man. As their fight spilled out into the hall, it became obvious to Rick that the man was guarding one door in particular. And Rick felt a surge of hope that the guns he came for might be hidden behind it. He tossed his full weight into the other man. And when Rick knocked him to the ground, he began choking the man to death. The man was fighting back. But Rick could feel the fight slowly leaving his body. When the man went limp under him, Rick heard a small startled shriek.

When Rick looked up, it took his brain a moment to process what his eyes were seeing. Daryl. He looked different from what Rick was used to. He was wearing an actual whole shirt, for one. And he appeared to have bathed recently instead of sometime before the outbreak. But there was no doubt it was the same man Rick survived the worst of the outbreak with. Behind Daryl was the source of the tiny scream Rick heard. There was a petite woman and two girls that looked maybe Carl's age or a little younger. The younger of the two girls was hiding behind her mother. But the other one had a bow in her hands, leveling it at Rick. But Daryl was motioning for her to stand down. Rick took a better look at the woman, feeling the heat rising slightly in his cheeks as he realized why she looked so familiar.

Daryl moved closer, motioning for Rick to move his hands away from the man's throat. He did, watching as Daryl placed his fingers on the man's neck to feel for a pulse. He felt around a little more before he glanced back at the woman and shook his head. The woman's face paled slightly. And she eyed Rick cautiously before she edged around them and began to knock on the door the dead man was guarding with Rick killed him.

"Sarah!," she called out, "...it's me Jean! Are you alright in there?" When there was no answer, Jean began to knock harder, slamming her open palm against the locked door. Rick watched as Daryl gently nudged her out of the way so he could force the door open. Just that small gesture alone made Rick feel like he'd fallen into the twilight zone. Carol was the only person he'd ever seen in Daryl's personal space. Rick rose, quickly moving to retrieve his gun. It felt strange not to trust Daryl completely. They'd been like brothers once. But Rick kept his gun in his hand as he pressed forward into the room behind Daryl and the woman, unsure of where the man's loyalties lied.

Rick's stomach bottomed out the moment he stepped into the room. There was a dead woman on the floor, a pool of blood still spreading out around her head. The window was broken, so Rick assumed she must have been caught in the crossfire. And on the other side of the room was not the large weapons cache that Rick was convinced he would find hidden there, but a crib with a baby inside. The man Rick choked to death wasn't trying to stop him from reaching the armory. He was protecting his wife and child.

"Don't look," Daryl instructed, steering Jean away from her friend's dead body and towards the crib. "Don't come in here," he hollered, directing his words to the two girls in the hallway.

The older of the two didn't seem inclined to listen. Because she pushed inside the room to see whatever Daryl was trying to hide from her. One look at the body on the floor and she was leveling her bow at Rick again.

"He killed Sarah and Jay," she hissed.

"Put it down Rose," Daryl ordered, stepping in between the girl and Rick since it was clear she wasn't in a listening mood.

"We should kill him," Rose argued.

"He's the leader of the group that's at war with Negan," Daryl explained. "Do you want Negan to win? 'Cause we just ran away. Do you remember what he does to people that run away?" Rose swallowed hard, remembering the sound of the hot iron sizzling against Dwight's face as Sherry screamed nearby. Then she shook her head and lowered her bow. Slinging it back over her shoulder, Rose leaned around Daryl flipping her middle finger up at Rick before she stormed from the room.

"Where in hell did she learn that?," Jean asked, casting a pointed glance at Daryl as she adjusted the baby on her hip.

"I thought he was guarding the armory," Rick finally said, hoping to break a little of the tension.

"He wasn't," Jean spit, giving him a wide berth as she carried the small child from the room.

"The armory isn't here," Daryl added. "It's at outpost five." Daryl narrowed his eyes at the gun in Rick's hands. He wasn't pointing it directly at Daryl. But he wasn't holstering it either. "Ya wanna point yer fuckin' gun at me, ya better be ready to use it," he hissed.

"You were with Negan," Rick accused. "...when he attacked Alexandria."

"I had my reasons," Daryl said, moving into Rick's personal space and forcing him to either lower his gun or push it directly into Daryl's chest. He lowered it, finally tucking it back into the holster on his hip.

"Are you with us now?," he asked. Daryl nodded. But his reluctance to agree was clear in the tense posture of his body.

"Negan's gotta go," Daryl acquiesced. "But when this is done, we still got a score to settle."