When the dead rise to feast on the living, it becomes nearly impossible to keep yourself, and your family, safe from anything.
For Daryl Dixon, that statement couldn't have been more true. As the apocalypse turns the world into a cruel, cruel place...
They took him back, back to that godforsaken place.
They kept him in that damn dox, with that damn song, with those damn sandwiches. He had nothing; no one to turn to, no one to help him. He was alone and grieving, breaking apart silently within the horrors of solitary confinement.
The Saviors had taken all of Alexandria's guns, most of their beds and medicinal supplies, and even some of their clothes. And all the while, Daryl was trapped, unable to help, or do anything, really. Apparently, the only thing he was good for was being a janitor, because he certainly couldn't do his job back at home; he couldn't protect the people he loved, no matter how hard he tried. He always ended up making things worse, always.
They forced him to clean the floors of the Sanctuary after a few days, trying to get him comfortable with staying there, with being a prisoner. They wanted Daryl to fall in line like a good little soldier, but he wouldn't do it; he couldn't.
Not when his daughter lost her life due to the god-awful people he walked amongst.
Carl showed up, eventually, and Daryl was filled with anger. How could he willingly go to the place that his daughter had died trying to get away from? Did the kid have a death wish? Daryl knew he was devastated with Sidney's death, and that he was angry beyond belief, but doing things when you were angry often resulted in irreversible consequences.
Daryl, of course, knew that better than anyone. He felt the guilt everyday, and with each passing cycle of day and night, it weighed down upon him further. He was close to a complete breakdown, and he knew it.
He made a mistake; lashing out at Negan regarding Carl. He had asked why he had the kid there, and threatened that if Negan laid a hand on him, Daryl would kill him, real slow. Negan threw him back into his box after that, leaving him in silence that time. After less than a few minutes, Daryl almost thought that the silence was worse. It made him able to hear his own thoughts, which were all about one, horrible subject.
The scene of him back-handing his own daughter replayed over and over again in his mind; how he did it so easily, as if it meant nothing to him. The shocked, tearful expression on his daughter's face should've broken him right then and there, but it didn't.
It was only when he was being forced to kneel, and saw the dark bruise on Sidney's features did the regret begin to catch up to him. She wouldn't even look at him, and that was before he had gotten yet another member of their family killed.
He couldn't imagine how Sidney viewed him before she died, because if he did, he'd start crying again. He was so tired of crying, but sometimes, the tears just came, and he let them fall because he knew there was no holding them back. Not anymore.
He was so caught up in the horrid thoughts of his own mind that he hadn't noticed the small, crumpled slip of paper that had found its way beneath his cell door. He was afraid of what it could be, so with trembling hands, he carefully picked up the note. He flipped it over, and felt the weight of a key taped to the sheet. Above the item, two words were printed in cursive, and Daryl's chest tightened.
Go now.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Daryl came around the corner of the Hilltop building, and was suddenly looking upon all the members of his group.
He was ashamed to admit the first emotion that struck him was fright. How they must've hated him for what he did, and Maggie... he couldn't bear to think about her pain.
As soon as Rick set sights on the man, he was striding up, an expression of pure shock present on his face. Daryl met him halfway, his steps sluggish and begrudging. He stopped just short of the man, and felt the tears welling in his eyes already. He bowed his head in a nod of acknowledgement to his leader, but Rick saw right through his facade.
Rick stepped forward and embraced his brother, both men burying their heads in the other's shoulder. Daryl knew everyone probably felt sympathy for him, pitied him, but in that moment, he didn't care. He was free. Free from the torture of the Sanctuary, at least. He doubted he would ever be free from the torture of his own mind.
Daryl's tears soaked through the fabric of Rick's T-shirt, but neither of the men cared. They were both crying, which was why it was difficult for them to release each other; they were both going through so much.
Tara was standing just short of Rick, and before she could say anything, Daryl reached out and hugged her, practically engulfing her smaller frame. She held Daryl tight, and told him in a voice that radiated care, "I'm so sorry..."
Daryl nodded against her shoulder, and released her a moment later, pulling away to find tears present in the woman's own eyes. Daryl couldn't stand the sight of happy-go-lucky Tara looking so upset, and he quickly looked down at the ground.
Michonne took him next, wrapping her arms around his torso in a gentle gesture. His found their way around her back, and he found yet another shoulder to bury his head into, a method to hide his tear-streaked face.
"You're safe now, with us," Michonne said to him, and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Daryl nodded, and attempted to smile, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace.
He found himself facing Rick again, and it was only then that he remembered.
Silently, he reached behind him, and pulled out Rick's Colt Python, the one he had stolen back for him. The gun was Rick's trademark, his Excalibur, and Daryl saw him gleam with confidence as he slid the gun back into his own hand.
A momentary smile crossed the leader's features as he looked down at the item, then up at all the members of his beloved group; his family. Daryl knew that look in Rick's eyes, the burning fire of pride and dominance. He was no longer one of Negan's pawns, and he was letting everyone know it.
The leader turned, and began walking up to Gregory's mansion, holding his gun pridefully. Daryl fell in line like a good little soldier, absentmindedly locking his footsteps with Rick's. Everyone else followed, and they all knew that things were about to change.
It was time for them to show the Saviors who they really were.
