A/N: I really struggled with this chapter, and I don't know exactly why, except a lot of it was just tough to write. Please forgive any inaccuracies with the location or the interior of the Walmart, I admittedly based it on the Target I used to work at in the early 2000s because it was a similar time period and structure (minus the garden center) and it's annoyingly hard to find a Walmart floorplan. Ditto goes for the medical stuff, I've never had a baby and I'm not a doctor or nurse, I just google a lot. Anyway, hope you enjoy this!


"Daryl, I promise, I'll be fine!"

Beth kept saying that—had been saying it since the moment Enid had burst into their home and interrupted them just when they'd been about to finally get some rest. But she didn't look fine. That was to say, she looked as beautiful as always, he'd never think she didn't. But she also looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was pulled into a sloppy bun instead of her usual braid. Her skin looked paler than usual, too. Not to mention that there were still droplets of blood on her clothing because she hadn't had time to change it all.

But she had insisted on going on the rescue mission and Daryl knew logically that she was right to do so. She was the only one remotely qualified to help a young girl in labor, even if she doubted her own skill and ability to do that. He didn't. He knew she could handle it, he just wished she didn't have to do so on so little sleep, after a battle they'd only just won.

He wasn't going to be the one to tell her no. Daryl was no idiot, no matter what people had said about him in the past. Telling Beth no in any situation wasn't going to get a person anywhere, and especially not a situation like this. In between her exclamations about how fine she was, the entire time she'd been getting ready had been punctuated with soft worried asides of "that poor girl" and "imagine how she must be feeling" and "those damn men better not hurt her!" She was frantic to help her, and he understood why. So he'd done his best to assist her packing and now it was all he could do to keep up with her as she raced towards the gates, her backpack of supplies slung over her shoulders, her crossbow dangling from one hand, and a travel mug of hot tea in the other.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at him, eyebrow arched as if checking if she needed to repeat the statement for the hundredth time. He just shook his head. He wasn't going to argue with her on it, he just wanted to make sure she stayed safe. "Just promise me you'll drink that tea on the way there. Wake you up a bit."

She shook her head, but the smile she gave him was warm with amusement. "Yes, doctor, I promise."

He growled playfully and reached as if to grab at her, but intentionally missed. Seconds later they rounded one of the still-remaining traps and came into sight of the front gate. Both of them had been doing their best to ignore the mess still covering camp; someone had moved most of the bodies but they'd yet to dispose of them yet and the blood and other remnants of the battle still remained. He'd expected that much. What he hadn't expected was to see the gates standing wide open when they arrived, and even more so, what was standing just beyond it.

Daryl came to a stop. "Are those…"

"Horses?" Beth's voice peaked with excitement as she froze next to him, eyes wide and fixed on the group of three horses standing in the gate, with Rick and Michonne guiding two more in behind them.

"Seems the Butchers used horses to travel, at least in part," Rick remarked as he ushered the last one towards the group. He jutted his thumb over his shoulder at the gates and added, "There's a jeep back there too, someone will have to find th' keys before we can move it though."

]The horses milled in a group just inside the gates and the RVs, looking a bit uncertain, at least as far as he could tell. He didn't know much about horses. They were big, he could tell that much. Two of them were lighter chestnut brown with white markings, one was black, one was a sort of tan with black socks, mane, and tails, and the final one was a darker brown with white socks. They were all saddled, he assumed properly since they'd been ridden here. Beyond that he couldn't say much about them. He was a country boy, but of the beer-drinking, motorcycle-riding, and deer-hunting variety. No one in his family had been able to afford a horse. The only ones he'd ever seen had been at a distance.

Beth, on the other hand, had grown up with them. He knew that much, had seen her on her farm with their work horse, and she'd mentioned riding previously. She slung her crossbow strap over one shoulder and held her hands low as she moved without hesitation toward the horse closest to her, the black one with a white star on its face. "Well hello there. Aren't you all just gorgeous?"

The horse let her cup its face and after a moment she leaned in and blew into its nostrils, laughing a second later when it snorted right back at her. "Well, they may be assholes but they've taken pretty good care of these horses. So that's something. We should keep them, honestly. I've been thinking for a while that horses would be good to have. We're really going to start having trouble with gasoline soon, so they'll be great for travel, plus eventually maybe we can find a cart or something and they can pull that…" She looked over at Rick, who stood beside Michonne at the gates. "I know we have to get going, or I'd help get them settled. I—"

She broke off as Enid approached, Carol hurrying along behind her, the young girl looking like she was about to ask why they hadn't left yet. "I know, I know," Beth held up her hand and turned to look up at the nearest guard RV, where Rosita and Tara were on duty. "If one of you can go get Maggie, or have someone go get Maggie, she'll know what to do about the horses. She'll be awake. She's refusing to go to sleep because she wants to keep her eye on Glenn."

When Tara called down her agreement and hopped down off the RV to go get Maggie, Beth turned her attention back to the others. Rick stepped away from the gate and tipped his head at them. "Guess we'd better get going, then?"

"Please," Enid cut in, looking from Carol to the others and back again. "Sorry, I just… I worry about all of them, and what those assholes might do if they realize the rest of them aren't coming back."

It was a valid point, one they'd obviously considered during all the planning for this fight. Originally, Enid had said the Butchers usually took a day or two raiding and loading up their jeep with supplies before they would head back to their base after winning a battle. With that in mind, they'd planned on getting some sleep before making the trip. The pregnant girl going into labor and the radio call had thrown a wrench into things. Enid hadn't known about the radios; either they were new, or they made a point usually of not using them in front of the hostages.

Certainly Walker hadn't had one when he'd met up with Enid in the woods; at least not one that Daryl could see or hear. But it was likely they saved it for occasions like this to avoid wasting the battery, and were only supposed to use it in an emergency. They had handled that hurdle earlier by sending back static and garbled words on the walkie-talkie, so that whoever was on the end hopefully thought there was just an issue with the radios for whatever reason. It would buy them a little time, presumably.

Unfortunately, the laboring girl was a much more pressing issue, one they couldn't handle from here. So they set a quick pace as they separated into vehicles; Rick, Michonne, Carol, and Enid taking the SUV and he and Beth grabbing the truck. They took just long enough to settle their weapons and buckle in, and they were off, driving through the gates and down the gravel path towards the main road.


It was about a twenty to twenty five minute drive from Haven to Clayton, where the Butchers had apparently made their base in the town Walmart.

"Glenn'll be mad he missed out," Daryl joked, glancing away from the road just briefly to smile down at Beth where she was tucked up under his arm, nursing her travel mug of hot tea.

She blinked tiredly and then, as if it had taken a moment for her to catch on, gave a belated laugh. "Oh right. Because he was always saying he wanted to go to Walmart. Poor thing." She paused a beat, and added worriedly, "Though I imagine he's got worse things to worry about, with his arm."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the concerned look on Beth's face, and took a stab in the dark at what was bothering her. "They'll be alright till you get back. Hank said he'd look after them with Alberta, and he's got some medical knowledge, right? From the hospital?"

She gave a little shrug, her lips twisting as she did so. "Yes. Some. I mean… none of us have much, not even me."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Daryl said firmly, not for the first time. "You handled a stab wound, an axe wound, a dislocated shoulder—" (That one had been Sasha.) "—And a few cuts and bruises. And everyone is doing well. That's great, Beth." He glanced at the road and then back at her for a moment. "If it'd been down t' me they'd all have gotten some rough-ass stitches an' a bottle of liquor, an' been told to sleep it off an' hope for th' best."

She tipped her head back in a laugh and his gaze lingered a moment more, tracing the contours of her graceful neck until he tore his eyes away to focus on the road. "I've gotten better, I'll give you that." Beth shifted beneath his arm and looked down into her lap. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her picking at the bracelets on her wrist with her free hand. His lips turned down at the sight, but he didn't say anything. He let her take the time she needed. After a few moments, she sighed. "I just don't know that I'm ready to help anyone give birth. I figured I'd have months left before Maggie, you know? To read more, to learn whatever I could, to get more supplies."

"I know." Daryl squeezed her shoulder where his hand draped over it. "But we can't plan for everythin' unfortunately." He kept his gaze on the road ahead, watching as they drove carefully by abandoned homes and cars; markers of their new world, where almost nothing could be planned for. "You have more supplies than you would've a month ago. Y' have more books, y' know more. Plus… havin' you t' help is more than this girl woulda got otherwise."

"True." Beth swallowed hard. "I hope she's okay. It didn't sound like those men were going to help her at all. I doubt they even know how. To be so young, and to have no one there to help her besides another young girl… she must be so scared."

He imagined she had to have been, and that wasn't even taking into consideration the thing that had remained unsaid in all these conversations, about how a captive, barely-eighteen year old girl had gotten pregnant in the first place.

Pushing that thought aside, Daryl focused on the woman beside him; something he always found easy to do. He gave her shoulder one more firm squeeze and said confidently, "Soon she'll have you, and she won't be so afraid."

She looked up at him again with those big, wistful blue eyes, and asked, "Promise?"

He would promise her the world, if he could. Most promises were a lot harder to make these days, but not this one. Daryl tore his gaze from the road one last time and looked her solidly in the eyes as he said, "Well, there's not a lot I can promise, but this I can say for sure. Having you by their side would make anyone feel more confident, Greene."


They parked their vehicles on the far side of the Home Depot, which was a short distance away from the Walmart. Both buildings sat up the slope from the highway, but from the other side of the hardware store there was a small road up to the Walmart. They could get a good look at it from here, especially now that the sky was beginning to lighten and they'd brought a pair of binoculars.

As they walked around the back of the building, Daryl pushed a stray cart out of the way. Behind him, Beth teased, "What, you're not in the mood for a quick shopping trip?"

He gave her a look over his shoulder, and watched as she stifled a laugh. "Maybe another time," he said gruffly, too focused on the situation ahead to make light of the situation much.

It was weird being here, though. They tended to stick to smaller stores and towns; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside a store this big. It was as tempting to imagine it full of supplies as it was equally easy to imagine it was full of walkers. Frankly he thought neither was likely; according to Enid, the Butchers had long-since cleared out the town of both supplies and walkers. The only undead around here wandered in from elsewhere and didn't last long. This store, so close to their base, would surely have been cleared ages ago.

One piece of evidence to support that theory was the distinct lack of cars in the Home Depot parking lot. Most places still had cars here and there leftover from the initial outbreaks and panic as people had turned or fled and left their cars behind. But the parking lot they'd driven past to get to the back of the store had been almost completely empty, minus one or two completely broken-down vehicles. He had to assume the Butchers had cleared the lot at some point, though he couldn't say yet why they'd done so.

In the lead, Rick gestured to a nearby ladder that went up to the top of the store building. Daryl nodded in agreement, and signaled him to head up. Michonne, Carol, and Enid stayed on the ground to cover their backs as Beth and Daryl followed Rick up to the roof.

A vast field of concrete, air ducts, and other various machinery spread out before them as they reached the top of the ladder. They stayed low, hunching down and keeping to the shadows of the larger objects, gravel crunching under their feet until they reached the edge of the building that was closest to the Walmart. Once they were crouched down out of view against the short lip of a wall that was the only barrier against falling, Rick pulled the binoculars out of his bag and handed them to Daryl.

He nodded his thanks and raised them immediately to his eyes. Both the Home Depot and the Walmart were just off Highway 441, but there was a small road that led from the Home Depot parking lot to the ramp that connected the highway to the Walmart parking lot. Peering up that small road with his binoculars, Daryl could see the large, squat Walmart building perched atop the slope in the distance.

It became immediately clear where most of the cars from the Home Depot lot had gone. The Butchers had taken every car they'd found in both lots (and elsewhere, it seemed) and used them to build a sort of wall around the parking lot. SUVs, trucks, sedans and more, all lined end to end, forming a box with the building itself as the fourth edge. It wouldn't stop regular people, especially not with a gap at the parking lot entrance to allow cars inside, but it would slow down walkers and probably was enough to warn casual explorers away from the Walmart.

"They're got a barricade of cars," he detailed to the others, though he imagined they could see that from up here without the binoculars. It hadn't been visible from the parking lot only because both the building and lot were up above them on a slope. "No one at the entrance to the lot though." It would make sense to guard the parking lot entrance from both humans and walkers alive, though if they'd sent most of their force to Haven, there wouldn't be much of anyone left to fill all the posts.

Daryl scanned over the rest of the lot, seeing nothing much of interest minus some traps that they could easily avoid; most of them looked designed to catch walkers more than anything else. He followed the parking lot to the front doors of the store, and paused. "There's a man at one of the front doors. He has a rifle on him with a scope, and somethin' on his back. Dunno what for sure, looks like some kinda melee weapon. I reckon he uses the rifle to… ah, there he goes. He's usin' it to the scan the area."

As he said it, the man's rifle scope ranged towards the building they sat atop and Daryl ducked down, the others following suit. He lingered for a few moments, then peeked over the edge, raising himself up a bit more when he confirmed the man had moved on. Rushing rarely worked out well, so Daryl took his time, no matter how urgently he wanted to rescue the hostages he knew were inside. Despite that pressing desire, they sat there watching the man for at least fifteen minutes. Only once did anything interesting happen. "Someone is poking their head out. Can't see who." Daryl squinted as if doing so would make the conversation audible, but of course it didn't. "Dunno what was said, but they talked for about 30 seconds, and then he went back inside."

Daryl lowered the binoculars and looked at Rick and Beth. "I don't reckon there's more than the one guy out front. No one on the roof for sure. Maybe someone out back, but if Enid is right about the count, they might not have enough people to put someone out there. Can't see from here anyway." He took one more look, and nodded decisively. "I say we stick t' the original plan. Split up and go in through the front and back at the same time."

"Agreed," Rick acknowledged with a nod. "Michonne and I will take the back. You and Beth should lead Carol and Enid through the front." When Beth flashed a look at him, Rick explained, "Your weapons are better suited to taking out that guard quietly and from a distance."

"Plus then Enid can lead me to the pregnant girl," Beth confirmed, only a hint of nerves showing as her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack. She shifted past him as they moved to exit, and Daryl took the opportunity to reach out and squeeze her arm in reassurance. Her eyes met his, lingering for a second until Rick moved by her to take the lead and she was obliged to follow. Daryl didn't blame her for being worried. He would be too, in her position. But he would be there every second to give her all of the support she needed, and hopefully it would help.

(Having her support always helped him, after all. Hell, just having her near him helped. He could only hope his presence did the same for her.)

They relayed the plan to the others once they were down the ladder again, took a moment to share a couple bottles of water between them—there was no telling when they'd get a chance after this and Beth had been picky about pushing hydration lately. (He suspected it was bleeding over from her taking care of Maggie.) Once that was done, they put their plan into action.

The disadvantage to the wall of cars was that they couldn't just walk through the opening into the otherwise-empty lot without being spotted almost immediately. That said, it was still far from perfect as a security measure. In fact, it had some obvious weaknesses that they were quick to take advantage of. Daryl guided the entire group right up the small connecting road to the wall of cars. They crouched as they approached and then began to skirt around the wall, keeping low to the ground as they did so and using the endless cars as cover. His boots scuffed a little on the asphalt and his shirt occasionally slid against the sides of the cars they were moving past, but the sound would be barely audible from where the guard was. They could make their way around most of the exterior car wall without being spotted.

When they finally reached the spot nearest the corner of the building, Michonne and Rick kept going towards the back, while he, Beth, Carol, and Enid stayed where they were. Just over the wall of cars in front of them was the fenced-in garden center, which butted up against the side of the building. Interestingly, the Butchers had covered the inside of the fencing with some sort of covering; tarps, he thought, which made him wonder what they had hidden inside. Perhaps they were doing gardening there, and didn't want any passersby to see it and get any ideas? It was hard to say, though the thought occurred to him that it might be where they kept the horses. That made sense. The Walmart wouldn't have a stable, and the garden center with its outdoor and indoor entrances might be the perfect alternative location for them.

They had agreed to wait a couple minutes to allow Rick and Michonne to get to the back and get the lay of things. Rick and Michonne would signal whether there was anyone back there or not by using different bird calls. If the signal was negative, they'd wait for Beth and Daryl's own signal to push into the building in unison. While they waited, they stayed tucked against a larger SUV that would keep them shielded from view. Parked beside it was a lower sedan that Daryl occasionally peered over the back of, to make sure that the guard out front hadn't moved and wasn't looking at them.

Beside them, Enid gave a little shiver.

Carol rubbed a hand across the girl's back as she whispered, "Are you cold, sweetie?"

"No." Enid's reply was as short and sharp as the little shake of her head that followed. But then, after a moment and a guilty look at Carol from under her lashes, she added, "I'm nervous. I'm just… Part of me wants to rush the doors to get to Avery, but a bigger part of me doesn't want to go inside there ever again. It's like the last place in the world I wanna be, but I feel like I have to at the same time."

"I understand," Carol murmured before glancing at Beth and Daryl. "We all do."

"Carol and I once stayed in a hospital full of people a little like the Butchers," Beth murmured, her voice just barely loud enough for the rest of them to hear. Carol darted a wide-eyed glance at Beth, perhaps surprised to hear her talk about it at all. But Daryl wasn't. The truth was that Beth was more than capable of talking about her trauma, when she needed to. When it mattered, at least. Usually she just preferred to keep it private. But if she felt it would help someone else, she never hesitated.

He put his hand on her lower back as she went on, "Hank and Ivy are from there, too. It was the worst place I ever stayed. The things I saw, the things I was forced to do…" She shook her head, but met Enid's eyes. Even Daryl could see the moment of shared understanding pass between them before Beth continued, "I have a feeling you can relate. So I want you to know that I mean it when I say that despite all of that, if someone I loved and cared about was in that hospital, I would go back in to save them. I'd make a plan like we have here, of course, and I'd hate every moment inside… but I'd do it." She gave Enid a tiny smile. "And I think you'll find you can do it here, too. Even if it seems terrifying."

Enid was quiet for a few moments, holding Beth's eyes with her own before finally she tore her gaze away to stare back to the Walmart in the distance. "Thanks, Beth," she said softly. "I appreciate that. I really do."

Just as Carol gave Beth her own warm look of appreciation, they heard a bird call echo through the air from the back of the store. Specifically, a blue jay's call. Which meant…

"No one back there," Daryl muttered, already moving towards the smaller sedan beside them. "Alright. Let's get this started."

It was about a hundred or so yards from the wall of cars to where the Butcher stood guard outside the doors. He could hit that distance sometimes, but he wouldn't count on a clean single shot at that distance; it was risky. Fifty to sixty yards was safer, anything over seventy five was pushing it, and Beth's bow didn't have any better of a range. So Daryl waited patiently until the man turned his back to them a little to stare off in the other direction. Then he acted. He hopped over the lower sedan with the bow in one hand, gesturing with the other to tell his group to wait a moment.

(He and Beth had discussed this plan and she'd agreed, even though he could tell she wasn't happy about having to let him go alone. She always preferred to have his back and he didn't blame her. He was the same way.)

Daryl moved at a crouch to the chain-link fence, which was set just enough back from the sidewalk that it gave him a little shadowy cover. He inched slowly closer, creeping along the fence until finally he felt like he was finally in a safe range to take the shot. The man never turned, never even noticed him. He was so oblivious in fact that it almost made Daryl feel bad. Almost. Guilt was a luxury they couldn't always afford these days, and this was a man who was a part of a group that had done horrible things. A man who was currently guarding a building that held a young girl who was captive and pregnant against her will, along with other innocent children.

Much as it sounded awful, they couldn't risk him calling out any sort of warning that might lead to the hostages getting hurt.

So he took the shot, sending the bolt of his crossbow right through the back of the man's head. He fell without a single cry, and collapsed to the ground with a soft, barely audible thump. Daryl held his palm out towards the others even as he pressed his back to the side of the wall where it met the fence, just out of view in case the sound of the falling body prompted anyone to come out and check.

He held his breath, counting internally for a full minute. But nothing changed. No one poked their head out or made a sound. He gave a single short bird whistle, signaling to Rick and Michonne that the man out front was down, and then turned to wave the others over.

"Good shot," Beth murmured as she got close to him, her own bow in her hand and her bag of supplies still slung over her back.

He flashed her a little smirk in response, even as he looked her over. They'd only been separated for a few minutes, but still. He worried about her, about her lack of sleep, about her own anxiety when it came to rescuing this girl. But there wasn't much he could do to help right now, and dawdling or delaying certainly wasn't on that short list. So he ran a quick hand over her back in a show of support (and because touching her always made him feel more confident somehow) and then turned and led the way to the entrance.

They stopped long enough to check the Butcher's pulse and when they found none, Carol helped Daryl drag his body back towards the wall, just to the side of where the entrance jutted out from the larger portion of the building. It wasn't fully hidden, but at least it would stop anyone from glancing out the doors and seeing the body. If there was anyone to do so.

"Everybody ready? Weapons good?" As the others examined their weapons and ammo, Daryl did his own checks, making sure his crossbow was loaded and checking the multiple knives he had strapped to him, as well as the gun he had in a holster just in case.

"I think we're as ready as we'll ever be," Beth said dryly, before she glanced at Enid, who to her credit had stopped shivering and was holding her knife with a good amount of confidence. "Remember, you stay back with me, Enid. I'll cover us, and I need you to guide me to where your friends are. Daryl will take the lead on any ranged attacks and Carol's got the close up melee." She held Enid's gaze and gave her a slight smile of encouragement. "You've got this, Enid. We've got this. Let's go rescue your friends."


The repeating whistle of a red cardinal was Daryl's signal to Rick and Michonne that it was time to move. Daryl pushed through the doors with Carol just behind him, and Beth and Enid bringing up the rear. The garden center was to the left of their entrance, with the bulk of the store (and a second entrance) continuing to their right. They pushed into the carpeted entryway, where the doors to the store beyond were unlocked. Sloppy. He would have had them locked even with a guard out front with the keys, but maybe they had their reasons.

Daryl pushed quietly through the glass door and into the store. A large aisle stretched in front of him into the store. To his left he could see the interior portion of the garden center, with doors leading out to the screened-in outside area, which wasn't visible from here. To the right were the former cash registers, now used for sorting supplies after runs, at least judging by the boxes and random items piled on top of them.

The store was incredibly quiet. Eerily so, perhaps because even with all the changes, it was easy to look around and remember what it had been like just a few years ago. He could still picture the cashiers ringing up purchases, the store bustling with shoppers going to and fro, talking and laughing as they wheeled their carts up and down the aisle, faint music accenting the scrape of wheels on the linoleum. He blinked, and the memory was gone. It was just the four of them standing at the front of the empty store, no blue-vested associates waiting to greet them and welcome them in.

On the other hand, the Butchers must have had a generator up and running, because some of the lights were on, albeit mostly towards the back of the store. The front was dim, presumably to stop anyone from noticing the brightly lit store at night and trying their luck. He could also see that a lot of the store had been 'remodeled,' such as it was. According to Enid, they had pushed aside most of the moveable racks and tables in the clothing sections and turned those into living areas, setting up tents and mattresses, or using the racks and other items to make private areas for the Butchers.

From here, those areas looked a bit like the homeless camps that he'd seen when he was younger, visiting his friends who were less fortunate than even him, whose families couldn't afford a trailer to live in. He kept an eye on the area, but it wasn't part of their plan to go busting through there. If Enid was right, beside the one guard outside, the few remaining people were likely to be in the storeroom. Enid said there was a locked room back there where they kept the captives, and the storeroom itself was where they kept a lot of the more useful supplies.

Michonne and Rick would already be back there, though they had planned to wait inside the door if they could, until the others arrived. Daryl signaled to the others to follow him up the aisle towards the back of the stores. Minus quick glances to make sure no one was creeping up on them, they ignored the aisles of the garden center to the left. It was mostly empty now, the useful supplies presumably moved elsewhere, the shelves coated in a thin layer of dust. The living area to their right got more attention. It took up most of the center of the store, the cleared, carpeted space covered with a myriad of tents and mattresses and little blanket-covered forts, all presumably living spaces for men that lay dead now back at Haven.

He pushed the morbid thought out of his mind, and just in time. As they neared the end of the wide main aisle, someone rounded the corner from the right, headed directly for them. As far as he could tell, it was the same man who had stuck his head outside earlier for a brief conversation with the guard. He was tall, skinny, and tanned, most of his face covered by a thick bear, and he wore a ripped pair of jeans and a green flannel shirt. He had a weapon, a bat, but it was slung across his back by a strap at the moment. At first he didn't seem to notice them, his attention on the items in his hand. Daryl squinted. Was that a little red and white paper tray of food?

The different threads clicked in his mind. The brief conversation outside, the unlocked front doors, the tray of food. He must have come out to ask if the guard wanted breakfast and now he was bringing it to him, unaware the man the food was intended for would be unable to eat it. Just as the thought occurred to him, the man in question looked up and caught sight of them all standing there. He froze, eyes wide for a single long second. Then the paper tray fell to the ground, splattering food everywhere, and the man turned immediately and ran.

Daryl raised his crossbow to aim, but the man had gone around the corner and he couldn't get a good shot from here. "Shit," he muttered to himself. There was only one thing to do. Catch him.

They raced through the department store, Daryl in the lead, rounding the corner and following the man down the new aisle. By the time they got within range again, he was rounding another corner to the left and heading towards the back wall, and what Daryl could only assume was the door to the back room.

"I'm not gonna be able to get a shot in before he gets through the doors, and who knows what's back there," Daryl called over his shoulder to the others as they ran. "Be ready for close combat, Carol." He still kept his voice down, but not as much. If there had been anyone else in this part of the store, the other man would have been raising hell calling for them. No, if anyone else were here, they were in the back room. It was either that, or the man knew he had no backup at all, and now he was trying to either hide, escape, or find somewhere he could take them all down.

At least, those would have been the three options Daryl considered in his place.

The thoughts flashed through his mind quicker than his feet flew down the shiny linoleum floors. Soon they rounded the corner of the dusty and desolate electronics section to see a short aisle leading to a pair of double-doors, still swinging in the wake of the man's entrance seconds before. Daryl raised his bow as they got close, but slowed enough to allow Carol to gain pace with him, knowing she might have a better shot with her own bat if they ended up close to him.

But the moment they neared the doors, he heard a yelp from within and the now-familiar thunk of a hatchet into flesh.

Rick.

They burst through the doors and into a dark and lofty space dimly lit by lights in the high ceiling above. Daryl blinked, his eyes adjusting to the shadows just in time to see Rick remove his hatchet from the man's back as Michonne finished him off (and made sure he wouldn't turn) with one final slash across the neck from her katana.

Daryl took a moment to catch his breath as Beth came up to stand beside him. Catching sight of the worry on her face, he asked Rick, "Did he have time to warn anyone else?"

"Can't say for sure." Rick peered to the right, where the warehouse stretched into the distance, shadowy and filled with stacked shelves full of supplies. "He didn't call out or anything, not until we got him from behind. If there is someone else, it's possible they heard his cry."

"The locked room is this way," Enid stated, moving to cut in front of them and lead the way deeper into the backroom.

Daryl put out a hand briefly to stop her, fingers touching her shoulder until she stilled and he drew his hand back. "Hold on girl. Let me an' Beth take the lead, you direct us, alright? Just t' be safe."

As he led the way, it took all his self control not to do more than glance at all the supplies lining the shelves they passed as they moved deeper into the storeroom. Even with only a few quick looks, he knew they had an incredible amount of supplies and equipment. Not just weapons but gardening supplies, household supplies, clothing, hardware, tools, not to mention all the food and water. And it made sense, they must have raided not only the Walmart and the Home Depot next door, but every store in Clayton, plus everything they'd stolen from the groups they'd infiltrated over the last couple years. According to Enid, they'd been here almost since the start of everything, so they'd had time to build up quite a stash thanks to their brutality and complete lack of morals.

(A part of him considered suddenly that Merle might have fit in perfectly here. Which meant that at the beginning of all this, he might have fit in here. Or at least tried to, had things gone a different way and he'd run into this group of men and not the one led by Shane and later Rick. He didn't like to think much about the man he would have been if things had gone this way. Not the least of which because that man never would have met Beth Greene, let alone become the one she went home to every night.)

He pushed that thought out of mind for now. When Enid signaled they were close he slowed, holding up his hand to warn the others. At the very end of the storeroom was a door to the right that led back onto the floor, and one set in the wall across from them, which according to Enid, led to a locked office room. That was where the children were all kept, only brought out occasionally to use the restroom or to be sent on missions.

Daryl reached out to carefully try the door, turning the knob as slowly as possible to reduce the chance of it being noticed if anyone other than the hostages was inside.

"Locked," he mouthed to the others. He reached towards his gun thinking he might have to shoot the lock, but Rick immediately shook his head, reached into his pocket, and held out his hand. From one finger dangled a series of keys on a blue keychain.

"Took 'em off the guy back there," Rick informed him with a tight smile. "Figured we might need 'em."

"Better'n shooting the door down," Daryl agreed gruffly. He took the keys and rummaged through them, pleased to find they all had tiny labels on them. He skipped past the ones labeled front doors, staff room, bathrooms… ah there, back office. Daryl held up the key to show the others, and then turned to slip it carefully into the lock. The key turned without issue and then gave a soft click. Unlocked. He put his hand on the door and held up three fingers for the other to see.

Three… two…. One…. He dropped the final finger, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open.

They were greeted immediately by a wave of stench Daryl guessed was an unpleasant mix of body odor and the bucket that the children were forced to use when they weren't allowed bathroom breaks. It was so strong it stung his eyes and he heard someone, he wasn't sure who, give a little gag behind him. Daryl covered his mouth briefly but kept the crossbow up as he stepped into the room, the others behind him.

It was a medium-sized space, dimly lit by a single light in the ceiling. I didn't do much, but it was enough to make it clear that everything that had once made the room resemble an office had been removed. Only bare walls and a carpeted floor remained. Blankets and sleeping bags were strewn here and there, presumably where the children slept each night. There were some toys scattered around, possibly thrown in by the Butchers on a rare nice whim. The aforementioned bucket was near to them, in the corner close to the door; he kept his nose averted from that.

His focus was on the group of children and young girls cluttered against the far wall, and more importantly, the young boy standing in front of said hostages, pointing his shotgun directly at Daryl and the others.

"Hey, take it easy there," Daryl drawled carefully, holding up one hand towards the kid. He tried to get a better look at the kids behind him, but the boy kept shifting in place, blocking him from getting too good of a view. It didn't help that it was dimly lit in here with only the one shitty light overhead. He had the vague awareness that one of the young women, presumably the pregnant one, was on the floor making low, stifled moans, but he couldn't see much more.

"That's Thomas," Enid whispered from behind them. It took a second for the name to click, and then he remembered what Enid had said. Thomas was the thirteen year old boy who was allegedly 'half-Butcher' at this point, having been groomed by the older men to join their group once they felt they could trust him. (Or once they'd fucked him up enough to make him think that joining them was a good idea.)

He was a rangy thing, all legs and arms but still on the short side; he wouldn't have gone through much of a growth spurt yet. His skin was tan with an olive tone to it, and he wore a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that looked both ratty and too big for his frame. His face was still bare, not a hint of facial hair, but he had a thick head of black hair atop his head, and his brown eyes stared at them with determination from under the dark fringe.

Daryl also noted that he held the shotgun well, but it was obviously heavy for him, judging by the way the point dipped occasionally as he strove to keep it straight.

"It's Thomas, isn't it?" Beth broke the silence, holding out one hand as she made sure Thomas could see that she'd lowered her crossbow with the other. Daryl wasn't sure how he felt about that, but then again he also didn't know how he felt about potentially shooting a thirteen year old boy. Let alone one who was comparatively innocent. (If he'd done anything at all with the Butchers, it was likely after a good amount of abuse and grooming. Daryl had personal experience with what a young boy could be convinced to do by someone who alternated between the stick and the carrot, as the saying went.)

Beth kept her voice soft and warm as she said, "I know it's probably your job to guard these people, these kids, and to keep us from getting them, Thomas. I know one of those men out there probably asked you to do it. Or straight up told you to do it?" She hesitated, waiting until the boy gave a little nod. "I understand that, I do. But one of those young women—Brigid, is it?—she's in labor, and she needs help. She needs a lot of help. I'm a… Well, I'm not a doctor exactly. I'm our healer, let's say that instead. This bag here?" She reached her hand up very slowly to tug at one strap of her backpack. "It's full of medical supplies, for Brigid. Will you let me get a look at her? Help her out? Otherwise… Well, it could go very badly, Thomas. And I don't think you want that, do you?"

Thomas hesitated. The barrel of the shotgun dipped for a moment, but he didn't lower it fully. He kept it pointed at them, the expression on his face a mix of confusion and determination.

"Thomas…" Enid stepped forward, flinching only slightly as the boy's attention and shotgun both shifted towards her. "It's me, Enid. I… I know the Butchers have been treating you better lately. Like one of their own." She swallowed hard. "I can imagine how nice that must feel. To have a chance not to be treated like this, like the rest of us." She gestured towards the hostages huddled against the far wall, who Daryl could see now looked skinny and underfed, their clothes dirty and torn, their faces gaunt and pale. "But just because they treated you better doesn't mean they treated you good, or that they were good."

She half-turned, gesturing now at Carol, Beth, Daryl, Rick, and Michonne. "These people are good, Thomas. They took me in and fed me and gave me a warm place to sleep and clean clothes and… and comic books to read." She smiled at that, and for a second Daryl saw interest flash in the boy's eyes before it vanished, replaced by doubt.

"Because y' lied to 'em," the boy drawled in a thick southern drawl. "Tricked 'em to let the Butchers in."

"Yes and no," Enid admitted, though not without a bit of shame at her own actions. "I told them the truth, Thomas." She paused, and glanced at Beth and Daryl with a look of embarrassment. "Okay, well, they caught me first, but then I told them the truth." She looked back at the boy. "And they didn't kick me out, Thomas. I told them everything, and they were still nice to me. They were upset, rightfully… but they were nice to me. They didn't kick me out or hit me or starve me, or break my arm." Her gaze flicked to the little girl Daryl assumed was her friend, Avery; a little girl with dark brown skin and a tangled, knotted head of black curls that looked like they hadn't been cared for in months.

"For real?" The shotgun dipped again as the boy stared at Enid, his mouth hanging open slightly. Daryl knew he could have darted forward and grabbed it away from the boy, but he also knew that if there was a chance that they could convince the boy to drop it willingly, things would go better in the long-run. So he would let the others try their method, at least until it became too dangerous.

"Enid is telling the truth," Beth confirmed, looking from Thomas to Enid and then Carol. "We were upset when she told us, but…"

"But we understand people being forced to do things they might not want to," Carol continued, taking up the train of thought, her voice slipping into that tone that Daryl thought of as her 'motherly' tone, the one he hadn't heard from her in ages before Enid had arrived. (The one she'd always used with Sophia and Carl, back in the early days. The one he'd thought was as gone as Sophia was, until Enid had brought it out of her again.) "And we don't blame them for those things. We don't blame Enid, especially because she was honest with us, in the end. And she helped us."

"The Butchers are dead, Thomas," Enid cut in bluntly. "All of them." He wondered if she wasn't being a bit too blunt, but her pronouncement seemed to hit him harder than anything else she'd said so far. He lowered the shotgun almost fully and took a step towards them before stopping himself. His gaze darted briefly behind him to the other hostages still huddled against the wall, their own faces flashing a mix of shock and confusion and cautious hope.

"All of 'em? They're gone? Even Carver and Bo?" From the way his eyes then darted to the office door, Daryl assumed he was talking about the two men they'd taken out earlier; the one guarding the front door and the one who'd tried running back here.

"Yes," Enid said firmly. "All of them. It's just us now. You don't have to be one of them to keep yourself safe, Thomas. Not if you don't want to, anyway…."

"That choice is yours," Beth said, her voice placating at first.. "So what do you choose, Thomas? Do you wanna be one of them? Brutal and cruel, going around harming and stealing from others?" Her tone had grown harder and tougher, but then her expression softened and she gave him a little smile. "Or do you want a chance at something else? A chance to be a kid again."

"As much as we can be, anyway," Enid added, with a dry, knowing tone that was beyond her years. At the same time, it reminded him a little of Carl. Just as he and Beth had discussed when they'd first run into Enid, and even prior… the kids these days had little childhood left. It was up to them to give them what they could of it. Thomas could have that too… if he wanted.

And thankfully, it seemed he did. He eyed them suspiciously for a moment longer but then finally lowered the shotgun and stepped to the side. "Okay. I… I trust you… for now."

Dimly, Daryl was aware of Carol moving to take the boy's shotgun from him, but his attention was mostly on Beth, who had hurried towards the group of hostages the moment she was able. Already she was swinging off her backpack, setting it down beside her crossbow as she knelt next to the girl on the ground that he'd assumed was Brigid.

She looked younger than Beth had when they'd first met, though according to Enid, the girl was just barely eighteen. She had a gaunt face and her skin was pale, with very little color to it. Her hair looked like it might have been strawberry blonde at one point, but was a matted dirty mess now, plastered to her head with sweat. She was certainly way too thin; the only place she had any weight was the big belly that jutted out in front of her, looking more like a beach ball than a belly under her ragged shirt. Even that bump that looked smaller than he'd expected from someone far enough along to be in labor. Whether she was early or just underweight, he had no idea. According to Beth, early labor was possible, especially with how malnourished the girl clearly was.

"Hello Brigid, my name is Beth." She looked to the other young girl who was crouched down next to Brigid, her hand on her arm and a worried look on her face. "I'm guessing you're Laila?"

The other girl looked even younger, her light brown skin ashen and pinched with hunger. She had a scarf wrapped around her head covering her hair—somewhere from the depths of his mind he plucked the word 'hijab'—and her wide hazel eyes darted around the room as if she wasn't sure where to rest her gaze. She settled on Beth at last, and gave her a nervous nod.

"Well, I'm pleased to meet both of you, even if these are awful circumstances." She reached into her bag and pulled out a space blanket that they'd kept stashed aside for emergencies. As she began to unfold the silver fabric, she said, "Here, let's get this over you Brigid, it's important you stay warm, and it'll give you some privacy. While we do that, you can answer a few questions for me."

Between Brigid's groaned responses and Laila's barely-audible whispers, they managed to figure out that Brigid had been in labor at least four or five hours and that her contractions had recently quickened to about two minutes apart. Beth ducked her upper body under the space blanket to perform a brief exam; though they all turned away to give her privacy. It took just long enough for him to see that Enid and Carol were taking care of Avery, who Enid had wrapped up in a hug. He could see from here that one of her arms in a makeshift sling rigged from what looked like a spare scarf, but she otherwise looked happy to see her friend and hadn't taken her arms off the older girl. He also confirmed that Thomas was still remaining peaceful, currently sipping water in the far corner as Rick and Michonne watched over him.

He heard Beth come up behind him and turned to see her standing there, wiping her hands on a spare rag. Sweat had made the tiny hairs around her face curl and stick to her skin, which was more sallow than he'd like, accented by the dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep, but she wasn't going to get it, not now. Judging by the worried look on her face, he couldn't even speculate when.

She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head instead. Her lips pressed shut and her eyes followed suit, and he found himself reaching for her, pulling her a little closer and rubbing his hands down both of her arms as he leaned in to whisper, "It's alright. It's gonna be alright. Tell me what you need, Greene."

"I… I don't know." Her voice was low and hoarse, only just loud enough for him to hear and no one else. "That's the problem. Daryl, she's exhausted. Her blood pressure is low, almost dangerously so, which isn't surprising. She's malnourished, they all are. But her cervix is fully dilated and with her contractions that close together I'd have to say she's either in or approaching second stage labor, which means she needs to start pushing. Her body wants to start pushing. But she's exhausted, Daryl." Beth looked up at him, her expression plaintive and a hint of desperation in her voice as she whispered, "I don't know if she has the energy to push."

He swallowed hard, but the words came to his lips even though a part of him already knew the answer to the question. "What happens if she can't push, if she can't deliver the baby?"

Beth's eyes darkened as her expression shifted from plaintive to haunted. Her eyes drifted over Daryl's shoulder, and though he couldn't see where she was looking, he knew instinctively that it wasn't a 'where' or a 'what' she was looking at, but a 'who'. Rick.

"I don't have any medication I can give her to help, I don't have forceps or anything…. If she can't deliver the baby naturally, there's only one option, at least in these conditions." Beth looked back at Daryl and sighed. "We'd have to cut her open. And she's too weak for that much blood loss, even if I had the tools to properly treat her after, Daryl… I just don't think she'd survive that. I don't know what else to do."

The unfortunate thing was, neither did he. And all he could think about in that moment was what he was sure Beth was thinking of, too. Lori Grimes, belly cut open, bleeding out on the floor of the prison as Maggie carried her baby away.

Beth echoed his thoughts with a faint whisper. "Déjà vu…"


A/N: Yes yes, it's another cliffhanger. Oops. Anyway, hope you liked it. Next chapter will have some more Beth/Daryl moments again. If all goes according to plan, there should be about 24 chapters total, so 6 more left. Wild. Thanks as always for your comments, let me know what you think!