When it happens, it's almost anticlimactic.
He can feel the breath evacuate his lungs in a rush, he has to lean against the wall of the building. His eyes meet Rick's, across the doorway between them.
For some reason, he'd always thought it'd be gun's blazin'. Not so quiet. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, inside his own head.
It was Carl that had nudged Michonne this morning, said loud enough for the rest to hear, "This is where we were. Before Terminus."
A sprawl of suburb. They'd stopped briefly, assigning tasks, divvying weapons. Daryl finds prison-folk at his back, Rick and Carl and Michonne and Maggie and Glenn, into their old formation, ready. There's something in the way Sasha and Bob's eyes meet, their grips tighten on handles of weapons. All of them, he sees it, they aren't who they were at the prison. At the prison, they were still afraid. New to this. Unsure. Faltering, hesitating. No longer. Now they believe in themselves. He sees it. They are hunters now. Not prey.
There's something in his chest, it may be what other people called pride. He's never been too good with the range of emotions thing.
For some reason, he has a flashback: not as tangible as Merle in those woods, when he had an arrow in his side and a cliff to climb. But it's there. Beth's eyes, when they were in that trunk. That night had felt like fucking forever, neither slept, her breathing never evened out. It seemed so loud, her rasping breaths, even with the groaning and slapping of the walkers. He focused everything- knowing the need for this hiding spot, for the close proximity, for being inside her personal bubble and his discomfort despite the knowing, trying not to feel her body shaking against the length of his leg and body- he put all of it into aiming his crossbow, breathing slow, waiting for the moment the walkers pulled the trunk open finally.
Beth's eyes had been afraid then. A rabbit, a lamb to the slaughter. And he'd known, in that moment, he'd never be able to keep her safe. Not forever. Not for long.
He'd seen the change in her eyes happen, over their time together. Beth had hunter eyes now, as much as that farmer's daughter with the blue eyes could ever have them. He doesn't know quite when it happened to the rest of them.
He shakes himself of this. They begin to clear the town.
It isn't until they've come upon the Southern Presbyterian Church that the world seems to fall apart.
The sign says, "GOD HAS LEFT GO AWAY."
The small hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
The town had been fairly quiet. Houses had been ransacked. Carl pointed out the places they'd already been. They had relaxed, enough not to be sneaking around corners, holding their voices. The church had double doors on the main building, for the congregation, and attached, a regular old home, for the minister or whatever. Daryl'd never been a godly man.
He and Rick take point, on each side of the double doors, big wooden things that swing inward. That's when it happens. He hears it. It knocks him backward. His eyes, his eyes must look frightening, the look on his face must be worrying, because Rick's eyes turn almost frantic. But Rick heard it, too, the shouted, "Goddamnit, Gabriel, let me go!"
There's more, he's listening to her voice because he can't believe it, he can't move, because he's not breathing, he can't catch his breath, she's knocked it out of him again. He thinks, wildly, that she'll probably get him killed one day, a big fucking distraction. While Rick's suddenly levering to his feet, he hears, "I know what I saw! It's my family! They won't hurt us!" And another voice, a male voice he can't quite make out, the words are too hushed. Rick lunges foot first for the door, not being smart about this at all. As the door swings inward, his head turns of its own volition. His body's no longer fully connected to his brain, just in that split second his breath is wiped clean from his lungs.
Then there she is, her little joke of a fist going straight and true into the nose of the guy who'd had his hand wrapped around her wrist. The asshole's hands drop her, to spring to his face, and she's yanking her arm and turning, she's sprinting, she barely takes a moment to double-check, to be sure, before launching herself bodily to Rick.
The first full gasp of air he finally drags into his body is painful.