He dreams, oddly, of his mother. She smells of cigarette smoke, but her face- it's been so long, he's not sure what it looked like. Instead, her face looks like Patricia, back from the farm. And all she keeps saying is the echo of Len, in her softer accent. Was it one of the little'uns? Cause they don't last long out here.
He wakes hard, like dragging himself out of thick mud, with his hands clenched into fists and a crick in his neck. He's slept sitting up, on the porch. He focuses on unlocking his cramped fingers, one by one.
There's been a small triangle of cans set next to him, peaches, chickpeas, unflavored and unsweetened applesauce. Joy.
Glenn's sitting on the rail of the porch, legs outstretched, a pitchfork across his lap. He's looking at Daryl, and it's not a way he'd like to wake up, to shake off the remnants of that fucked up dream and the anger it left behind. He just doesn't know what to say. Instead of eating, he lights one of the precious cigarettes, hopes it'll somehow settle his stomach. Glenn's still watching him.
Halfway done the smoke, he breaks. He grumbles, "What?"
Glenn sorta shrugs. "I'm just on watch, man."
Daryl grunts, but he suspects better. The food on the floor speaks of a Greene sister, not Glenn.
When Glenn starts talking, it's different. It's not... it's not like he used to be. It was like Hershel was coming out of his mouth. Daryl thinks suddenly of how left-behind that man is, imprinted on each of them, carried with them. At least there was that. "You weren't really there after... after the Governor took me and Maggie. You were with Merle for a while. I was... going to kill that man. I was going to take from him to give back to Maggie."
Daryl smokes his cigarette, chews on his thumbnail and his lip. He figured Glenn'd keep going, whether he said anything or not. He figured he knew well enough by now, it weren't that he didn't care. He just didn't know how. How any of this worked.
"But it, it wouldn't really give her back what he took. And it just made her feel like I was blamin' her. For what happened. It wasn't her fault. Took a while to come to terms that it wasn't my fault either."
Daryl grunts again. This speaks to heavy-handed Maggie. He thought- he was pretty sure that Beth understood his... privacy. Maggie wasn't so... quiet and insidious, like smoke in his lungs- instead, she was the hammer. The steel.
He flicks the butt of the cigarette over the porch rail, into the yard. Glenn shrugs. "Beth says this Gabriel guy, he isn't right in the head. Not like the Governor, just a guy who can't come back."
Finally, Daryl says, "Don't mean I ain't gonna kill him."