Chapter Text
Daryl keeps his eye trained on the black maw of the hallway leading up from the bowels of the prison. In the distance, the pattering of footfalls grows closer through the darkness. Loading a fresh bolt into his crossbow, he raises it and peers down the arrows shaft into the void.
From the darkness, the latino alpha in the white tank top appears first, slipping into the light with a cautious glance around. When he only sees Daryl, he rolls his shoulders and steps further into the room.
“That's far enough.” Daryl grumbles, but even softly spoken words echo in the high-ceilinged room. Even at first glance, Daryl doesn’t like him. An alpha, stuck in a prison, now freshly accountability free? Daryl doesn’t trust that asshole as far as he can throw him.
Behind him, the other inmates slink out into the open. They at least have the good sense to look nervous.
“Cellblock C. Cell four, that’s mine, gringo.” Tank top doesn’t have the good sense to be still when a deadly weapon is trained on him, instead he cocks his head and comes closer.
Daryl doesn't miss the way his nostrils flare, how his eyes scan Daryl from head to toe. He slept with his omega curled up against his chest last night, and didn't even have the opportunity to change his clothes or steal some of her pheromone spray. He’s completely doused in Beth’s scent, and the other alpha can definitely tell.
The betas behind him stick close to the door, eyeing the crossbow with healthy caution.
“Let me in.” The other alpha tries to command him. Daryl’s lip twitches, but he doesn't let his distaste show. He’ll die before he lets this greasy bastard into the cellblock with the women and Carl.
“Today’s your lucky day, fellas. You’ve been pardoned by the state of Georgia, you’re free to go.” Daryl tries to sound haughty, but it comes out a snarl, and the inmates all share confused looks with one another.
“What you got goin’ on in there?” Tank top asks, his nose raised high in the air, looking at Daryl out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he smells Beth, or Lori, or all the blood and assumes they're weak. What this alpha can’t understand is that protecting an omega doesn’t make him weak. She’s a muse for violence, she makes him stronger and angrier. Toeing the line Daryl draws will only get him killed.
“Ain’t none of your concern.” Daryl says, keeping the tip of his arrow pointed right between Tank top's eyes. If he tries going inside the cellblock, Daryl’s going to have no choice but to stop him. He knows damn well their old man lost a leg, too. If he thinks Daryl’s about to be letting him anywhere near their injured man he’s got another thing coming.
“Don’t be telling me what’s my concern.” Tank top takes a gun from his belt, and Daryl pushes himself into motion and away from the table, making himself a moving target in case the other alpha does decide he feels like popping a few rounds at him.
“Chill, Thomas. Dude’s leg is messed up.” The biggest man of the group cajoles, upright palms honest and pleading. So the alphas name is Thomas, interesting. Daryl doesn’t take his eyes off him for a second. “‘Sides, we’re free now. Why are we still here?”
“The man’s got a point.” Daryl agrees, never taking his eyes off the other alpha for a second.
“And I gotta go check on my old lady.” Another of the men says, the tall bald one. His dark eyes never stop looking for a way out, Daryl's watching in his periphery the moment his eyes fix on the door, moving incrementally towards it.
“A group of civilians, breaking into a prison you got no business being in…Got me thinking there ain’t no place for us to go.” Thomas is smart, Daryl will give him that. Behind him, T-Dog’s footfalls are feather light while he creeps along under the catwalk. The inmates only have one gun, while Daryl and T-Dog have four deadly weapons between them, not counting knives.
"Why don’t you go find out?” Daryl asks, motioning towards the red door. The betas all look towards it longingly. If they really were locked up in that cafeteria since the beginning, he can’t blame them for wanting some fresh air.
“Maybe we’ll just be going for now.” The blonde one with the mustache backs away towards where they came up from the basement.
“Shut the fuck up, Axel, we ain’t leaving!” Tank top snarls, pulling back the hammer on his gun and aiming it right at Mustache, then swings around to point it at Daryl.
“You ain't coming in, neither!” T-Dog comes out from behind the concrete security pillar, steel bar in one hand and a gun in the other, cocked at the ready. His presence only incenses Thomas further.
“Hey, this is my house, my rules, and I go where I damn well please!" Tank top raises his voice until he’s yelling, a harsh alpha tone vibrating the air around them.
That kind of tone might have worked on the other betas in his life, but it won’t work on Daryl.
“Ain’t nothing for you here, so why don’t you go on back to your own sandbox!” Daryl roars in return.
“Hey!” Rick barks over them all then he leaves the cellblock and jumps back into the fray. “Everyone relax, there’s no need for this.”
“How many of you are in there?” Tank top asks, turning his gun to point it at Rick when he strides into the room.
“Too many for you to handle.” Rick threatens, low in his throat. With him, he brings the stench of blood. He makes for an intimidating sight, blood staining his clothes and spattered over his entire person.
“Now lower your gun, and we’ll lower ours.” Rick snarls quietly, but the effect is immediate. Daryl glances at Rick, and when he turns his attention back to the inmates, Thomas has lowered his gun, pointing it at the floor. Daryl and T-Dog both relax their weapons, but Daryl keeps his finger on the trigger.
“You guys rob a bank or something?” Tank top asks, dark eyes flicking between Rick and Daryl. ”Why don’t you take him to a hospital?”
T-Dog’s lip curls, and his eyes flick over to Daryl, who cocks his own head in return. The three of them look between each other, silence stretching on. Do they not know?
“How long have you been locked up in that cafeteria?” Rick asks, voice barely above a whisper. Thomas puts the gun in the front waistband of his pants, fists twitching with tension at his sides. He looks between the three men and Daryl can tell, his confidence is cracking now that Rick's here. If he’s smart, he won’t draw the gun again.
“Goin’ on a…Ten months.” Thomas says, looking between Rick and Daryl.
“A riot broke out.” The biggest man says while he stares at the floor, face straight but for the crease between his eyebrows. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Ever heard about dudes goin’ cannibal, dying, coming back to life?” The smallest, youngest looking inmate of the group says. His face is truly haunted. “Crazy.”
“One guard looked out for us, locked us up in the cafeteria. He told us to sit tight, threw me this piece and said he’d be right back.” Thomas says, his hands have relaxed at his sides when he retells the memory. All of the inmates stare off into the distance, no doubt remembering the first few days of the plague.
“Yeah, and that was 292 days ago.” The tall bald inmate mutters. Daryl squints at him, wondering if the inmates have scratched out the tally on a wall somewhere.
“Ninety four according to --” Mustache starts.
“Shut up!” Thomas bellows over him. Axel slinks away behind the bald one. They sure don’t seem like friends, for all the time they’ve spent together.
“We were thinking that the army or the national guard would be showing up any day now.” The biggest man says. Despite his towering height, he comes off as soft spoken and gentle, looking between Axel and Rick's group of survivors.
“There is no army.” Rick's voice is hoarse, like it hurts him to say it.
“What do you mean?” The little one asks. Everyone in the room has gone completely still, listening. Even Daryl and T-Dog.
“There’s no government, no hospitals, no police. It’s all gone.” Rick tells them in a soft voice, but there’s no words that can soften the impact of the world they knew being gone.
“For real?” Mustache asks, in disbelief.
“Serious.” Rick casts his eyes down to the floor.
“What about my moms?” The big guy mumbles, still staring down at the floor. It doesn’t seem like he’s asking anyone in particular, just wondering aloud.
“My kids, and my old lady?” The bald one’s eyebrows are drawn together, clearly upset at the idea of his family in peril. “Yo, you got a cell phone or something that we can call our families?”
“You just don't get it, do you?” Daryl growls, hand tightening on the crossbow when moves closer to them, pushing them back to create more distance between them and the cellblock.
“No phones, no computers. As far as we can see, at least half the population has been wiped out. Probably more.” Thomas does relax his fists then, body sagging and his face and eyes cast the side, lost in disbelief. Then the light returns to his eyes, and he glares between Rick and Daryl.
“Ain’t no way.” He mutters. Daryl doesn’t understand how they could stay in the cafeteria for near 300 days and not be curious about what’s happening outside of that room. From what Daryl can glean from this alpha, he probably liked having control over four men with no one to challenge his authority.
“See for yourself.” Rick gestures towards the door, and the inmates go to it and find it open, rolling it out of the way and making their way outside.
Fucking brilliant. He can breathe a sigh of relief once the inmates go outside, away from their family. Alpha in the tank top turns over his shoulder, one black eye pointed back at Daryl for a split second.
He knows. Beth’s going to go into heat any day now, there’s no way he can’t smell it. Even if there’s bars and layers of steel and concrete between her and him, Daryl won’t let him back in. If Rick decides to let him in, Daryl’s going to have to fight him too. There can be no new alphas in the pack, disturbing the hierarchy at a time like this, especially not one as untrustworthy as this one.
Outside they squint in the bright sun, despite the residual chill in the air.
“Damn, the sun feels good.” Troubles forgotten temporarily, the bald inmate turns his face up to feel its rays before his eyes adjust.
“It’s fuckin’ freezing, asshole.” The shorter one hisses, arms wrapped tightly around himself. None of the men wear anything more than their worn and dirty blue jumpsuits, the same one the bodies on the ground wear.
“Good lord. They’re all dead.” Mustache glances around at the horror show around them, corpses stacked into neat piles and scattered all around them.
“Never thought I’d be happy to see these fences” Tank top says, swinging his arms loose at his sides. As soon as the men have seen the bodies, they seem to come to terms with it quickly. Only the big man and the blonde mustache guy seem bothered by the bodies around them. They press fists over their mouths and rock on their feet.
“You never said, how the hell’d you guys get in here in the first place?” The short one comes to stand next to Daryl, moving so that the bigger man's body blocks some of the wind.
“Cut a hole in that fence, over there by that guard tower.” Daryl tells him simply, lifting a finger towards the tower furthest from them, down the hill. Against the far fence, five walkers have heard them come outside and have pressed themselves against the chain-link, growling.
“That easy huh?” He muses, like a man who’s wanted to escape from this place for a long time.
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.” Daryl tells him, but he just rolls his eyes and curls his lip.
“Easy for you to say.” The little guy mutters, and Daryl stares at him. What did he do to be in here, Daryl wonders. The thought makes him glance around at the others. The biggest guy is poking at one of the walkers with a stick. He seems like a gentle giant, worried about his mom and disturbed by the bodies. Baldie also seemed sick when he mentioned a woman and kids out there. The other three…Daryl isn’t sure. Axel seems twitchy, but the little black man and the alpha, both of them give him a bad feeling. Really bad.
When Daryl raises his eyes, he finds the other alpha staring right at him. His eyes aren’t those of a civil man, but those of an animal.
He knows.
A bone deep, innate feeling floods him. Ice cold certainty and dread.
He knows about my omega. She’s going to go into heat any day now, and he’ll steal her any chance he gets.
Daryl will kill him if he tries. He wants to kill him anyway, just for being a rival alpha. Just for smelling her and being aware she exists here.
Defend, defend.
“So what is this, like a disease?” Axel asks. Thomas turns his eyes away from Daryl and towards Rick, but his body never turns away from him. He can see the wheels turning in the other alphas mind, can practically see him putting together a plan, looking around and counting all the variables around him.
“Yeah. And we’re all infected.” Rick tells him honestly, squinting in the sun. Daryl stares down the other alpha, heart rate rising. All his life, he’s watched alphas fight and mutilate one another over petty squabbles. What they did to win omegas was storied, the classic catalysts for conflict and power struggles since the beginning of human history.
“Ain't no way these robin hood cats are responsible for killing all these freaks.” Thomas crosses his arms over his chest, sneering to his little friend, who snickers. Daryl paces across the yard, crossing behind Rick and T-Dog to put himself between everyone and the door, keeping his hand on the crossbow’s stock. It’s weird that they’re so casual, surrounded by bodies. The three other men are solemn, and seem averse to the mocking of the other two.
Axel turns his frowning face down to the ground to stare at the dead man he’s standing closest too. Maybe he recognizes who the husk used to be.
“Must be fifty bodies out here.” Andrew agrees, nodding along with his alpha. Rick doesn't confirm, nor deny. They have no need for bragging, or explaining how they did what they did. The inmates were locked inside the cafeteria, five guys unable to cooperate enough to fight their way out, even in the dead of winter when the walkers were frozen.
There’s a distance between the five of them. The two big black men and Axel stick together, and the little guy and Thomas are clearly in cahoots, but separate from the others. Maybe the severity of their crimes is different, or maybe they just stayed in different cellblocks before, but there’s subtle tension there. Daryl can practically hear Axel's frantic heart beat while he looks around. The biggest man's eyes are closed, like he’s trying to pretend he isn’t there.
“Where’d you come from?” Thomas asks Rick, but it doesn’t seem like he’s examining them for weaknesses. He seems genuinely curious, but even if he was scoping for weaknesses, he won’t find any. Rick has fought tooth and nail to get them here, Daryl and T-Dog have too.
“Atlanta.” Rick answers simply.
“Where you headed?” Thomas swaggers closer to him, straightening to stand as tall as he can next to Rick, measuring his height compared to his. Daryl’s hands wring the crossbow’s stock, watching that idiot puff himself up. He wishes Rick would just let him shoot him, but he doesn’t signal, he doesn't move at all.
“For now, nowhere.” Rick says quietly, refusing to be cowed when Thomas ducks to put his face right in Rick's. When he doesn’t balk, Tank top turns and swaggers in a circle in front of him, nodding and looking around like he thinks he has any authority over the other two alphas staring him down.
“I guess you can take that area over there near the water. Should be comfortable.” Thomas points off towards the water in the distance, nodding along with his own words, as if what he says is gracious. On cue, a sharp gust of wind whips over them. Even the alpha shivers. No one is going to want to be out there, exposed to the elements.
“Like hell --” T-Dog growls.
“We’re plannin’ on using that field for crops.” Rick’s tone is calm, but it’s laced with iron. Daryl’s hands spasm and flex around the crossbow, but he doesn’t raise it. One signal from Rick is all he needs, one twitch of his fingers and he’ll strike that self-important prick down.
“We’ll help move your gear out.” Thomas insists with a smirk, but Rick doesn’t even twitch. His eyes narrow incrementally, only for an instant.
“That won’t be necessary.” Rick is still as a statue while Daryl rocks back and forth on his feet, ready to blow his lid. Any threat to their staying here feels agonizingly urgent. The only thing keeping him contained is Rick, doing everything Daryl would do if he were in his leader's shoes. “We took out these walkers, this prison is ours.”
“Woah, slow down cowboy.” Thomas lowers his voice and raises flat palms, imitating Rick's calming tone and gestures.
“You snatched the locks off our doors!” The little one draws himself up next to Thomas, glaring. The situation is spiraling, Daryl can smell the second the other alpha starts sweating, despite the cold. He’s getting ready to fight.
“We’ll give you new locks if that’s how you want it.” Rick’s voice is close to laughter, but his barred teeth are vicious.
“This is our prison.” Thomas insists, and Daryl cringes. Rick is threatening them, but they don’t seem to realize it. “If you want to stay, we can make an agreement.”
Daryl doesn’t like his tone one bit. Thomas's eyes drifted over to him when he mentions an agreement. There’s nothing he could ask for that could be easy to give, the way the world is now. Unless he wants a nice tour of how to get the hell out of here.
“You’d still be locked in the broom closet if we didn’t let you out. We spilled blood. What leverage do you really think you have?" Rick asks, scoffing with his lips pulled tight over his teeth in an almost-smile. “It’s ours.”
“We’re moving back into our cell block.” Their rival snarls in retaliation, his hand going to the gun at his waistband, but he doesn’t draw it. Rick doesn’t move, but Daryl and T-Dog both take their weapons in their hands, at the ready.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Mustache is the one who jumps between the warring alphas to try and mediate. “Maybe let's try to, ah, make this work out so everybody wins.”
“You’ll have to get your own.” Rick snarls, squaring his shoulders. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“I’ve still got personal artifacts in here, That’s about as mine as it gets!” Thomas snatches his gun from his waistband, drawing a line in front of him with it. “You want my crib, there’s only one thing you got that I'll let it go for.”
Rick doesn’t say anything, he just tips his head back, looking down his nose at the inmate. He looks him up and down, and Daryl can tell by Rick's subtle posture how this is going to go down. His pinky is already reaching back towards the python at his hip.
He’s going to ask for one of the omegas, Daryl can practically taste the other alphas sweat and proteins in the air when he so much as thinks about it.
“I’ll tell you how this is gonna happen. You have two omegas in there, don’t you?” His head swings towards Daryl, glaring and cocky at the same time. Yep, just what Daryl thought it'd be.
The silence that falls over the men is deafening. Daryl’s neck is tense as steel chords, there’s no way he dares to look over his shoulder and look at T-Dog, who probably had no idea Beth was even an omega. Cold sweat prickles over his entire body.
That bastard. How dare he blow her cover.
The three inmates who stand separate all balk, sharing horrified looks between themselves. Tank top and his little buddy both nod along seriously, like it’s a logical trade.
A cellblock for an omega. A shelter, traded for a human being. These guys weren't hardened from what the world turned into, they were like this even before.
That's why they were locked up in here. A broad line has been drawn, separating the normal men from the dangerous. There’s no way they can let them live now. A strange sense of Deja Vu falls over them, reminding Daryl of Randall, who they couldn’t release yet couldn't agree to kill. Randall wasn’t a criminal, but he was a fraction of a threat compared to these two.
“Give us one of them, and I’ll let you keep that cellblock, how about that?” He asks, cocking his head and smiling, a sly, greasy smile showing his long white canines.
Rick’s hand slides behind his back, fingers crossed. Daryl puts his finger on the trigger.
Thomas’s last mistake on this earth would be trying to use an omega as a bargaining chip. Just like Menelaus, Daryl would go to war for his Helen of Troy. He’ll kill anyone who tries to take her from him.
“Thomas…tell… you ain’t serious.” The bald man runs his hand over his face, pulling at his own mouth.
“There are other cellblocks.” Axel tries to reason, but it doesn’t matter. Thomas already knows they’ll never agree. Daryl’s known men like him all his life, the rival just wants to assert power over them by unsettling them. Push them incrementally towards what he wants with threats, and get a better bargain through fear.
It won’t work. Merle used to have a dozen dealers, all of them acted exactly just like this guy when they didn't get their way.
“That’s what it’s gonna take, right?” His lips pull back from his teeth, spittle flying from his lips when he salivates. Ice slides down Daryl's spine. “So give me your unbound bitch, or your buddy --”
Thomas points his gun towards Rick, and Daryl lifts his crossbow and has him in his crosshairs before he even has a chance to put his finger on the trigger.
The arrow flies, burying its barbed tip deep in his eye.
The little guy next to him flinches when the arrow pins the man beside him, and he turns to watch Thomas sag to the ground. When his head snaps up again, they’re wide and wild with disbelief.
He screams something incoherent, throwing himself at Rick with his fist cocked, ready to strike. Rick is a fast and experienced fighter, he redirects the younger man's fist with his forearm and drives his knuckles into his stomach.
“Stop resisting!” Rick shouts over him. Andrew buckles when the wind is knocked out of him, but he still glares at Rick with hate in his eyes.
“I’m gonna kill you.” He promises, eyes flicking to the gun lying by Thomas’s head, a dead giveaway before he lunges for it. Rick intercepts him halfway, wrapping his arms around his waist and tackling him to the ground.
Daryl circles the fight while T-Dog keeps his gun trained on the three remaining inmates, still kneeling with their hands in the air. When he stands over Thomas’s body, Daryl kicks the handgun in the direction of the prison's door, further from the other prisoners, should any of them start getting ideas about grabbing it.
Rick wrangles the young man face down to the ground, knee pressing onto the middle of his spine. Even in a prone position, Andrew never stops fighting and trying to buck Rick off of him so he can scramble away.
“Hands behind your back!” Rick shouts over the din and Andrews screams. When he keeps fighting, Rick pulls him up by his shirt, and slams him down again. It only takes his face connecting with the pavement twice for him to be stunned into stillness.
“Finish it.” Daryl growls. Rick stands and before Andrew can get away from him, draws his Python and puts a bullet in the back of his head.
Red dashes across the concrete, his blood joining the mural of gore and bodies all around them.
“Jesus Christ." Axel croaks, doubling over and squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t look. The two men beside him are stunned still, wide eyes fixed on the men they’d spend the last ten months with, dead in front of them. When their shock wears off, the biggest man leers at the two dead men, his lip curling.
“Hey, listen man, we got no affiliation with what just happened, I swear!” He nudges the bald man next to him with his elbow, and the other two nod along. When Axel opens his eyes, there's tears in them.
“We ain' t here for hurtin’ women, nothing like that, we ain't bad guys like them! I like my pharmaceuticals, and Oscars a B&E and not a very good one at that, no offence Oscar. Tiny’s got…Tiny ain’t done nothing besides hang with the wrong crew! We weren't the wrong kind, they were! Please, I swear to god. I wanna live!” Axel bleats, sobbing when he admits their faults. Oscar hangs his head, but Tiny looks between Rick, T-Dog and Daryl, desperate to make them understand, and save their lives.
“I got sisters and…and Oscar's married!” Tiny blurts, his huge hands trembling. Rick says nothing, pacing in front of the three men with his gun in his fist.
“How stocked is that cafeteria?” Rick asks, ever pragmatic. “It must have plenty of food, five guys lasted almost a year?”
“Sure as hell don’t look like anyone’s been starving.” Daryl lowers his crossbow when the men begin to grovel, no sign of an attack in sight.
“There’s a little left.” The man named Oscar tells them, opening his mouth and closing it, like he has more to say but decides against it.
“We’ll take half.” Rick insists with a cool head. “In exchange, we’ll help you clear out a cellblock. You pay, we’ll play. We’ll clear a block for you, then you keep to it.”
“Alright.” They agree easily, looking down at the blood creeping across the pavement towards their knees. “We can show you where it is.”
“If we need help, we can follow the big fuckin bloodstain on the floor.” T-Dog sneers, clicking the safety off his gun. “We put you in a cellblock and you stay in there.”
“Let's be clear. If we see you out here, anywhere near our people, If I even so much as catch a whiff of your scent, I will kill you.” Rick threatens, eyes passing from one man to the next, holding their gazes, looking into their souls.
“Yes, alpha.” Oscar lowers his head, and Rick immediately turns and looks at Daryl with a queer expression on his face. What was that some kind of prison speak? Daryl’s never been to prison, but he thought maybe Rick might have worked in one, at some point.
It wasn’t normal for betas to defer to alphas like that, at least not for the last 300 years.
That prick Thomas must have had these guys all totally subjugated down in that cafeteria, before they stumbled upon them.
“C’mon, let's get out of the cold,” Rick says. The three remaining men are shivering in their short sleeves. They herd everyone back inside the sliding red door. “You stay in cellblock C, too?”
“No, we were in A.” Axel replies, the sound of teeth chattering filling the narrow concrete hallway leading inside.
“Wanna stay there?” Rick asks, and the three men all share glances between one another, before they nod in unison. Maybe they didn’t expect Rick to give them a choice, but cellblock A is the furthest from cellblock C where their family is staying. It’s an ideal place to keep strangers while they figure out what to do next.
They take the men down to the cellblock, and Rick tries a couple keys before he finds the one that opens the gate inside.
The inside looks just like cellblock C did when the first found it. A row of bodies stretches the entire length of the block, men shot execution style lying in a neat line.
“These were good men.” Axel chokes, wavering where he stands. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, and Big Tiny sniffs sadly.
“Want a piece of advice? Take these bodies outside, and burn them.” T-Dog tells them gently, before they file back out. Instead of locking the men inside, Rick leaves the gate open. Daryl wants to protest, but he understands Rick does this as a test. If the men come too close, they’ll kill them. They can leave, or keep their distance, and maybe someday they have a chance of integrating into their group.
After all, people are a resource now, and these are three strong, healthy men who got to avoid the worst of the world outside.
“Let's see that cafeteria then.” T-Dog says, and they head back down into the catacombs, drawing their weapons. They’ll fight their way back to that food, and bring it back to their group.
Carl is practically bouncing on his toes when their men return. The gate clicks when he unlocks it to let his dad through. The moment Rick is inside, he dumps the bags he carries on the ground and pulls his son into his arms. The bags have illustrations of corn on the front. It’s processed stuff, from the old world.
“Wow, what have you got?” Carol asks. T-Dog drops two more big bags, one of flour and one of pasta on the table. Beth follows Glenn and Maggie into the main room, looking around for Daryl. Is he not with them? She’s relieved Rick and Theo are back, but there’s no way she can relax until Daryl returns.
“Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans.” T-Dog says with a smile, and a moment later Daryl appears, pushing a stainless steel table identical to the one that they brought her dad back on. Its surface is completely laden with cans of every kind, size and color. Beth’s heart leaps when he comes into view, butterflies making her stomach clench when she sees him and what he brings. Her mouth water immediately when she thinks about having pasta again. “And there’s a lot more where this came from.”
“Any change?” Rick juts his chin in the direction of the cellblocks holding Hershel.
“Bleeding is under control and no fever. But his breath is labored and his pulses weighed out and --” Carol starts, looking over the cans with a dazed smile, trying to cover up her shock.
“He hasn't opened his eyes yet.” Beth speaks up, leaning her shoulder against the gate behind her. Daryl glances at her, but his eyes pass over her as if he’s looking at anyone else in their group.
Look at me. Beth begs him with her eyes. She watched him kill a man today, one who definitely posed a threat to her. She wanted him gone, but she might have felt better if they’d just locked him outside the fence. But if he thinks it was the right decision, she trusts him implicitly. After all, this is his world, and she was just surviving in it.
For the thousandth time, she wonders how daytime Daryl, who kills people and walkers and animals, is also nighttime Daryl, who adores and worships her with no thought for himself.
Once Daryl and T-Dog drop off the food, they're leaving again.
Where are you going? Beth pushes herself away from the gate and trails towards them, floating like a ghost over the floor until she stands in the spot where Daryl stood, subtly inhaling his scent, lingering in the spot where he stood.
He smelled like a fight, sweat, and angry alpha proteins. And now he’s gone again. Beth’s vision blurs and spins, only for a second, but she finds herself swaying into the wall.
She doesn’t feel so good. Rick and Carl are talking under their breath in the corner closest to the door, and she walks past them to go back into the cellblock. She needs to rest for a little while. Pointedly looking in the other direction of the cellblock holding her dad, she slinks into her cell and sits down on the bed, staring at the peeling wall for a long time until she shakes out of her reverie and lies down.
Even if Daryl stuck around, she doesn’t think she wants to mess around with him anyway. Her head is spinning, and she sinks, through the bed and the floor and into the cold earth underneath the prison.
“Beth? Hey honey, are you okay?” Maggie comes and tries to wake her up, but Beth isn’t budging. Maggie leans over her, takes her sister's pulse, but there’s really nothing she can do. Beth’s skin feels cold and clammy, not warm, at least.
When T-Dog and Daryl return from clearing the hallways closest to them, Maggie hangs around until she has the opportunity to talk to Daryl in private. Daryl heads outside by himself, and Maggie follows when Glenn is engrossed with talking to Rick.
Once again, she’s reminded that Daryl’s more observant when he seems when he waits in the hallway for her, leaning against the concrete wall in the dark with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Beth’s sick again.” Maggie blurts, sliding into the darkness in front of him. For some reason, she feels afraid of him. She can’t see his face, but his figure in the dim is imposing. Beth told her that he’s her alpha, but it seems like such an odd pair, especially when the two of them never interact where anyone can see.
“What you mean?” He grumbles, sounding just as annoyed and disinterested as he usually does. Maggie gulps a breath, and crosses her arms too, imitating his uncomfortable posture.
“I think…I think she might be going into heat.” She says, and Daryl just blinks, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Hmm.” He just hums, and Maggie feels her face growing hot. It seems like Daryl already knows, and he’s waiting. Maybe he has a plan, and just isn’t willing to share it with her. But Beth's her sister, Maggie has a right to know, doesn't she?
“She’s not responding, like last time.” Maggie whispers, leaning into the light to check their surroundings. No one’s close by enough to hear them.
“I’ll check on her.” Daryl agrees easily, and Maggie tries not to let her surprise show on her face.
“Thanks, Daryl.” She thanks him, and to her surprise he pushes away from the wall and walks right back into the cellblock, past Rick and Lori, who glares at him when he passes. If their stares bother him, Daryl doesn’t show it.
Maggie isn’t so tough. She avoids Lori’s eyes when she follows him into the cellblock, folding her arms over her stomach when guilt pulls at her. She understands Lori’s disdain, but her dad might die, and her sister is sick and no one can help her but Daryl. Lori might not like it, but it wasn’t her life or family on the line, so she doesn’t need to like her little sister's arrangement. Maggie rakes her hands through her hair, turning into her dads cell after watching Daryl set his crossbow down outside Beth’s cell.
He pauses at the threshold, whispers something too quiet for Maggie to hear before he goes in.
Beth lies in her bed, legs hanging off the edge as if she laid down and passed out immediately. She doesn’t exactly look comfortable. Daryl grabs her legs and lifts them onto the bed, pulling her blanket out from under her and laying it over top of her.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid, hang on.” Daryl brushes her hair from her face, watches her chest pause and stutter. Her eyes cross, head lolling to the side as she tries to focus but can’t. He pets her hair, trails his hands over the sides of her neck and over her glands. “I’ll come for you.”
He comes crawling into her bed after everyone falls asleep. Daryl pulls her close and takes her through the motions of scenting her, taking her jaw in his big hand and rolling her head side to side while he licks along her throat. She comes back into her body slowly, rolling her hips against his thigh until he relaxes against her, settling his heavy body down against hers, holding her still.
“It was stupid for us to let him go. I knew it wasn't going to go right.” She whispers once her mind has cleared. Daryl sighs against her throat, kisses her cheek.
“Could have happened to anyone.” Daryl grumbles. It's not exactly reassuring, but she knows that he's right. Maybe if she’d insisted a little harder that her dad stayed, maybe it would be someone else laying in the bed right now with their leg missing. It’s useless to wish she could change the past.
“What happened outside?” She asks, when he sighs and relaxes next to her. Night time Daryl is here now, and she just wants to enjoy him while she has him. The width of his shoulders blocks out the lantern light, and she stares at where she estimates his eyes are.
Daryl regales the tale of their finding the men down in the cafe, her dad being bitten and Rick cutting off his leg to save him. The prisoners following them back to the cellblock while they wheeled him back. The walkers are still down there, dozens of them. Daryl tells her that he and Rick are planning on taking Glenn and T-Dog to clear out the rest of the prison tomorrow. They’ll map it out, check for security breaches, and find any last resources that might be left behind.
“They wanted us to go so they'd take over this cellblock. We wasn't gonna let that happen. The other three…” Daryl starts, but Beth huffs when he tries to pass off a gross simplification of events. It’s not like him to leave out details.
“Why would they want this cellblock? There are others just like it.” She asks, and Daryl rubs the hair on his chin thoughtfully.
“Just to be assholes. That alpha, he'd only give up this place on one condition, that I gave him you.” Daryl whispers. Beth cringes away, but his eyes bore into her, she can feel them. Slowly, his arm stretches out and wraps around her waist, pulling her bloody closer, flush against his. “I didn’t like that, so I killed him. ‘Sides, he pointed a gun at Rick. Even if we threw him out, he wasn’t gonna leave. Waren’t gonna let him anywhere near you or Lori.”
She waits for him to keep going, but he doesn’t so Beth reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Blanketed in his heat and scent, she finally feels the tension of the day unwind.
Things could have been worse, much worse, but he didn’t let it happen. The other alpha wanted to steal her, so Daryl killed him. The thought makes something hot pulse through her. Logically, it should make her scared, it would have made her scared to death of him a few months ago, but she hangs onto him like a lifeline, pressing herself against him everywhere she can. She stroked her hands over his cheeks, savoring the rough scrape of his long stubble under her palms. His hands twitch, sliver of light shining in his narrow eyes.
“Where did you put the others?” She asks, searching for his eyes in the dark. She wishes the sun were a little higher, she wants to see him. Daryl sighs, stroking one of his big hands down her side, over the curve of her waist and hip.
“Rick had us clear out a cellblock for them.” He tells her honestly, patting her hip over the wide brown belt she’s been wearing recently.
“And you trust them?” Beth asks, her voice so small and sweet. Daryl blinks slowly, eyes adjusted so he can see the concern written all over her sweet face. She’s so beautiful, and worth every death and sacrifice he’s had to make to get them here.
“trust 'em? Hell no. They can stay or they can go, I don’t give a damn what they decide.” He tells her honestly. That seems to satisfy her, she wiggles to get comfortable, then sighs when she settles. Daryl turns onto his back, reaching behind them to turn the lantern off.
“My dad’s gonna be alright. I’m not gonna give up on him.” She whispers, and Daryl’s hand hardens. Daryl and her dad aren’t exactly best friends, no one is Daryl’s best friend, but they have a camaraderie. Her dad has been making an effort for months to give Daryl positive attention, Beth has seen it.
“He’s gonna be just fine. Maybe one leg less, but your dad’s one tough son of a bitch.” Daryl insists, and Beth can’t help tears from springing into her eyes.
“I hope so.” She says with a shaking voice, laying her cold hand over his cheek. His are just dark shines, glittering in the dark. She can’t look away from them.
“Want me to pet your kitty, make you feel better?” He rolls closer into her space, voice dropping an octave when he rubs his cheek against hers. Beth shivers, heat blooms between her legs. She wants to tell him yes, please give her a distraction from reality for a while, then she remembers she hasn’t shaved anywhere in months, or even washed with anything more than a cold wet rag.
“No, not tonight.” She chokes, lying through her teeth. Just thinking about having his head between her legs again makes her swallow hard. She wants it, but it’d be too embarrassing. What is he takes her jeans off, and changes his mind? Beth thinks she’d die of embarrassment.
“Smells like you want it.” He growls against her throat, the vibration against her glands making her shiver. Oh god, she’s not going to be able to resist him if he insists. He tried the other night too, when he knotted her up against the roof of the bus.
“I don’t.” She lies automatically, frowning and trying to be mad at him, but her body is betraying her. Slick is dampening her inner thighs, every hair on her body standing on end. Daryl chuckles darkly, and she shoves at his shoulder and huffs. He’s not usually so forward with her, or eager. He usually softens up after a while, after hormones have released their inhibitions.
“C’mon Beth, I wanna lick it, don’t you want me too?” He presses gently. Maybe it’s because of her upcoming heat, or maybe he’s feeling possessive after tangling with another alpha. He kisses the center of her throat, humming and rubbing the tip of his nose against her chin. “Promise I’ll make it good. We can be really quiet.”
Beth finds herself nodding, she can’t look at him anymore, so she squeezes her eyes shut.
“Please, baby.” He curls his fingers in the waistband of her jeans, kissing from her belly button to the buckle, slinking down her body until he lies on his stomach below her, kissing and mouthing against the material between her body and his mouth. Beth tries to clamp down on the hot rush between her legs, but she can’t, she parts her legs and allows him to move between them. It's impossible to resist him, and she doesn’t want to resist him, not really. Especially not when he talks to her like that. Daryl releases an indecent gasp. “I can smell how bad you want it. Please, Omega, let me taste you again.”
Her resolve shatters when he begs her. Frantically, Beth undoes her belt and Daryl yanks her jeans down over her legs. Once they’re off, Daryl snatches the back of her knees and holds them open. Her limp body doesn’t resist, and she covers her mouth with her hands to keep herself from moaning loudly.
He kisses the inside of her knee, hands stroking her thighs and she’s just about to tell him he doesn’t have too, she knows she hasn’t shaved in forever --
Daryl inhales slowly, inching her underwear off and throwing it against the far wall. Beth cracks her eyes open in time to watch him shrug off his jacket and vest and drop them next to the bed. His scent settles over her, and she happily allows herself to be hypnotized by his body. Daryl watches her admire him through his clothes, dropping his head and exhaling a moan, so quiet and tortured, his hot breath cooling the slick curls between her thighs.
He’s just looking. She shivers, and has to squeeze her eyes closed again when she feels his skin pebble when goosebumps prickle all up his bare arms, chorded with veins and muscle.
He’s going too slow, she’ll let him do anything he wants with her if he’d just hurry.
“Lick me, alpha.” She squeaks, and Daryl drags his flat tongue from her taint to her clit. Even with her eyes closed, they roll in their sockets. He licks her twice more, then fixes his open mouth over her cunt and rolling his tongue against her opening, drinking her. “O…oh!
“Ssh.” He shushes her, before dropping his head back down and lazily licking and kissing between her legs. He might be the one telling her to be quiet, but he was the one being noisy, making all kinds of obscene noises with her.
But she can’t tell him to stop, it feels too good. His mouth is so hot and insistent, his tongue is so hard, like velvet steel. He drags his teeth over her inner lips and her clit and her body jerks hand and goes rigid.
“You taste so good, sweetheart. Holy hell, eating you is…” He dives back into her to stop himself from saying what he really feels.
An honor, to get to spend his night face first in her cunt. He fights for this, has now killed for her. Anything for Beth Greene. He lifts her by the hips and thrusts his tongue and deep inside her as he can. She mewls behind her hands, clamped over her mouth. Her eyes are closed, and he takes the opportunity to watch her face and her reactions to his ministrations. When he kisses her clit, her closed eyes twitch. When he sucks on her hidden pearl, rolls it quickly with the tip of his tongue, her whole body twists and spasms, he has to hold her hard to keep her pinned down.
His own boner aches, but its insistence is forgotten inside his jeans. He flattens his stomach and hips on the mattress, prostrates himself before her, submits himself to her pleasure.
He likes it when she thrashes, so he sucks on her clit until she’s making the bed squeak with her trembling. Periodically, Daryl slips his tongue inside her until her body clamps down and spasms around it.
She’s almost there.
Pinning one of her legs down, he holds her open while he probes two fingers inside of her, Beth’s hips roll and jerk, frantic for friction. He pumps his fingers inside her to match the pace she sets, then drops his mouth back to her clit and sucks hard.
Once he’s tipped her over the edge, all she needs is a third finger inside her and she’s swallowed up by her orgasm, jerking her hips and gasping for breath. It’s breathtaking, for him, when all his effort is rewarded by watching her in pure pleasure. He can hover over her, watch her face twist while he moves his fingers inside her incredibly slick pussy.
She must come for almost a whole minute. That’s long, even for her. When it tapers off, he lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her gently. Beth grabs his head by his hair, surges up into him and licks against his lips.
He tastes like her, the musky flavor of her cunt in his mouth, on his beard.
“Don’t you wanna cum too?” Beth asks against his lips, voice sweetly purring. She opens her legs again, and he’s ripping his belt open.
“You want me to give you my cum, omega?” She’s nodding frantically, pulling his mouth back to hers while struggling with the zipper. He gives up and kisses her, opening his mouth to let her tongue press in against his. Without tearing his mouth from hers, he pushes his jeans down and as soon as he gets himself free, he sinks the tip of his cock inside her and holds it there.
“Please, give me your cum, knot it deep inside of me.” She mumbles against his lips, raking her nails over his shirt, pushing his jeans lower so more of his skin touches hers. Slowly, he rolls his hips, coating his cock in her slick.
“No, no knotting in here.” He purrs, obliging her with long steady strokes. She holds her legs apart, hips flexing to take him deeper with every thrust.
“Yes, alpha, please knot me.” She murmurs dazedly when he’s fully inside and his knot presses between their bodies. She stares up at him, he’s so reassuring to look at, even with the predatory, possessive scowl he wears now.
“No.” He settles over her, the feeling of his weight settled on her making her purr with satisfaction. She breathes against his skin, inhaling him. Daryl smells like her, and she nuzzles against his collarbones. The bed is narrow enough that he can plant one foot on the floor, to keep the bed from creaking when he moves inside her. She opens her mouth to ask him to knot her, she’s ready, but he crushes his hand over her lips. “I said no, omega.”
She whines, but it’s quiet enough that he doesn't think she’ll be waking anyone up. Beth tosses her head from side to side, trying to shake his hand off, but he holds her hard so she can’t escape. Her body is hot, curls sticking to her shimmering skin. The sour smell has burned out of her, and she smells like pure omega again. If he knots her, this whole room is going to stink of mating proteins, even the betas might pick up on Beth’s cell smelling like sex.
She might not be embarrassed now, but she will be when the fog lifts.
It doesn’t take a lot of movement inside her twitching pussy to unravel him. He ruts his knot against her while she grinds down against it. Reaching down between them, Beth rubs her own clit with her fingers until she’s gasping against his throat quietly, her breath puffing against his skin, hotter than in his dream. Her pussy ripples until it’s gripping onto his cock, harder than a fist.
He lets go of her mouth to swallow her moans, and she wrestles her arm from where it was trapped between them. They rock against one another, and her hand touches his side tentatively. Daryl flinches, biting his lip hard to keep from gasping when her hand trails over his lower back and higher, over the widest scar under his shirt, one that still aches.
Pulling back, he takes deep, measured breaths with his eyes squeezed shut. He can’t look at her face. She doesn’t normally touch him, and while he wants it, aches for it, he feels nauseous once he feels her hands on his body. He can't stop moving inside her, the soft suction of her cunt makes his teeth tingle.
They could start this right now, if he looks down at Beth, at the place where their bodies join, the temptation to force her into heat might grab hold of him. He craves it, having her all to himself. All he’d have to do is stuff his knot inside her, lean down and put his teeth on her and they’ll fall over the edge. Daryl’s ready, and the thrill that shoots through him just thinking about it is so powerful he needs to go still to stop himself.
This is the wrong place, wrong time. He didn't find a safe place for her, and hasn't earned it yet. Shame washes over him in a cold wave, so vile it almost makes him gag.
Today he was supposed to find someplace for her, and he failed. She looked at him this morning with the same expression she wore when they went down to her dads barn, to the barn her mom, brother, Sophia and all their neighbors were kept in. He let her dad go down there, and get bit.
“Daryl?” Her voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He’s gone totally still above her, and Beth sits up and cups his face, finding his expression far away.
“Nothin’.” He rolls her underneath himself again and lowers himself down onto his forearms, elbows on either side of her head. She cranes her neck up, and he kisses her hard, forcing her head back down on the pillow. He rolls his hips against her until she’s twitching and a fresh wave of slick blooms around his dick inside her.
Daryl smooths his hands over the top of her head while his movements devolve into jerky grinding against her. Waiting until the last possible moment, he thrusts inside her until she wraps her arms around his middle, and it’s over for him.
Beth gasps against his chin when his cock twitches, hot rush of his cum inside her. She knows exactly where to find his gland in the dark, leaving her tongue across it, making him shudder and grip her hard.
I’m sorry. He almost says to her, but he swallows it down. He wouldn’t be able to elaborate on why, it was too complicated. Rolling off of her, he pulls her ponytail away from her neck and feels her sweat cooling. The heat fades away, and she shivers and curls up against his chest.
They stave off her heat another day. How much longer does she have, he wonders. How difficult will it be to resist her during her heat, when he’s rutting? The books say it’s impossible, but he has to try. She’s only a loaner, after all. That thought is bitter, and it doesn’t make him feel any better.
Pushing some of her loose curls from her face, he watches her breathing slow until she’s sleeping. How is he going to resist biting her, besides completely muzzling himself?
I’m redneck trash, and she’s a golden country rose. We don't belong together.
But here we are, in a prison cell wrapped up on a bunk together, and she says she’s never liked an alpha as much as me.
Lowering his head, he kisses her forehead, her cheek, the side of her neck.
“Consider me, Beth.” He doesn’t even dare whisper it, he just mouths the words against her hair.