Wounds

Five days had passed since we started driving toward the Appalachian Mountains of Northern Georgia, where Daryl had lived with Merle prior to all of this, but it felt like even longer. The trip should've been quick - just a straight shot, a couple of days, a few gas stops. But the world didn't work like that anymore.

We had to scavenge constantly, searching for fuel, food, and clean water. Some stops were easy. Others weren't.

But nothing weighed us down more than the way Daryl was carrying this trip like a chain around his neck.

He didn't say much, but I saw it in him. The way he gripped the wheel too hard. The way his shoulders stayed rigid, even when we rested. I could tell he didn't want to be doing this..

He was only forcing himself to because we were running out of places to look for Merle and Beth.

I caught him staring at the horizon more than once, like he was bracing for a storm no one else could see. He tried to act normal around me, still being by my side, holding me wherever we camped, but he couldn't fool me.

~

It was late afternoon when we pulled off the highway, just a few hours from our final destination, exhaustion settling deep in our bones. A hunting lodge stood at the end of a cracked dirt road, half-swallowed by overgrowth.

The place was barely holding together - wood rotting, windows cracked, the once-proud sign dangling from rusted chains, the letters so faded they were almost unreadable.

It was empty. Had been for a long time. The world had collapsed, but it was obvious this place had already been dying.

"We'll rest here," Daryl muttered, already climbing out of the truck. He didn't look at any of us.

Glenn and Maggie moved to check the perimeter, weapons ready. Carol and I stepped onto the sagging porch, the wood groaning beneath our feet.

The front door was unlocked. It creaked open, revealing a dark, dust-choked interior. The smell of something rotting clung to the air.

Inside, time had stood still.

Mounted animal heads lined the walls - deer, a boar, even a black bear, their glassy eyes frozen in eerie stillness. The furniture was old and splintered, covered in layers of dust. The walls bore the scars of water damage, the ceiling sagging in places.

Carol exhaled sharply. "Charming."

I stepped forward carefully, my boots stirring up dust. The whole place felt... heavy. Like it was weighed down by something unseen.

I forced open a supply closet, my stomach sinking at the sight of the empty shelves. A single rusted can of beans sat in the corner, long-forgotten.

Carol peered over my shoulder. "Slim pickings."

"Yeah," I muttered, taking the can anyway.

The floor above us creaked.

Something about the way Daryl had climbed the stairs stuck with me - his movements stiff, reluctant. Like he was walking toward something he didn't want to face.

I followed the sound, finding him in a narrow hallway at the top of the stairs. He wasn't searching, wasn't moving. Just standing there.

The wallpaper was peeling in long, curling strips. He stared at it, frozen in place.

"How you doing?" I asked softly.

He flinched. Not much - just a small, sharp twitch of his fingers, like I'd pulled him out of something deep. He didn't look at me at first, just shook his head as if trying to rid himself of whatever thought had taken hold.

"M'fine." His voice was rough, like gravel dragged over stone. Forced.

I stepped closer, studying his face. His jaw was tight, his breathing shallow.

"You can't fool me, y'know." I told him, stroking his arm.

Daryl scoffed, a small smile tugging at his lips. His eyes flicked around the narrow space - taking in the water-stained ceiling, the old wooden doors, the dust layering everything like an unwanted memory.

"Been here before," he muttered finally. "With Merle."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He breathed out. "Dragged me all the way out here to score once' cause he already owed money to all the local dealers. Prob'ly robbed the place too. Make the drive worth it."

I could imagine Merle here, kicking open doors, laughing at how 'quaint' the establishment was while stealing whatever was worth taking.

I could also imagine a younger Daryl following behind, saying nothing. Taking nothing. In out of his depth.

Daryl dragged a hand through his hair. "Ain't nothin' here. Let's get some sleep."

He turned before I could press further, retreating down the stairs.

The five of us slept together in the lounge, the beds in the filthy rooms all too covered in gore and whatever else for us to even consider splitting off in search of privacy.

I held onto Daryl extra tight as we huddled on an old, uncomfortable couch. I needed him to know that I had him, that he didn't have to face his past alone.

He held on just as firmly, fingers gripping me almost uncomfortably - an unspoken confession of his emotional state - spilling out through his touch.

This trip wasn't just about going home in search of Merle and Beth. It was about everything that word meant.

~

We left the lodge the next morning, pushing forward.

The closer we got, the quieter Daryl seemed. I could see the weight pressing on him. Every mile dragged him further into his head.

"Fuck." He sighed, spotting none other than a damn herd in our path.

The thick wall of the dead staggered in a skewed formation, blocking the road ahead.

He slammed the brakes, eyes darting for an escape.

"Shit," Glenn muttered.

Maggie twisted in her seat. "Back up."

Daryl's jaw clenched. "Too late."

More walkers were closing in from behind.

His hands tightened on the wheel, breathing shallow. Then, suddenly, he threw the truck into reverse, gunning it toward a ditch on the side of the road.

"Hang on."

The truck jolted, bouncing as he cut off the pavement and into the trees.

Branches scraped against the windows, dirt kicking up behind us. Walkers followed, pushing through the underbrush, their groans carrying through the thick air.

Some way in, the truck became lodged between the trees, it's wheels spinning pointlessly as it failed to move at all.

"Time to bail." Glenn yelled, swinging his door open.

We ditched the truck - we had to - and ran for what felt like forever before Daryl's eyes locked onto something ahead - a tall, old fire tower, half-hidden by overgrowth.

"This way!" he instructed.

The climb up was brutal. My legs aching as I pulled myself up the rusted ladder, my heart hammering. The others followed, Daryl clambering up last - putting everybody else's safety above his own, as usual.

At the top, the watchroom's windows were cracked and clouded with dust, the faded map pinned to the wall torn down the center. I fought to catch my breath, while Daryl kept his eyes trained on the herd swarming below, eventually being satisfied they weren't suddenly going to develop the ability to climb ladders.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him. "Close one."

"Always is." I half-joked, planting a chaste kiss to his lips.

It was hours before the coast was clear enough for us to climb down.

"Well, that's put us behind schedule." Carol mumbled as her feet hit the dirt.

"Yeah." Daryl agreed. "On foot now too, I guess."

~

It was late before we made the decision to stop for the night. We camped in the woods, and I could tell by how familiar Daryl seemed with the area that we couldn't be far away now.

He sat apart from the group, staring into the fire, silent.

I moved to sit beside him, but he didn't acknowledge me, just kept his gaze locked on the flames.

"You never have to tell me anything." I reminded him. "But I'm here if you want to."

He shrugged half-heartedly, not looking at me. "I don't."

I studied his face, the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. I didn't push him - just stayed by his side.

After a while, he sighed, reaching out and pulling me into him, kissing my forehead as I settled against his chest.

"I love ya." He whispered into my ear, resting his forehead in my hair for a moment before changing his mind and tilting my chin toward his.

He leant in and kissed me, undeterred by the others being close by. I responded instantly. Moving my mouth deeply against his. Our tongues danced slowly, as, together, we attempted to work through some of the tension that had been building inside him.

Daryl continued kissing me even when wolf-whistles soon erupted from our friends. He didn't care tonight. His hands gripped my hair as though he was trying to hold on to me, like he was afraid I was going somewhere.

The intensity made me dizzy in the best possible way.

When we finally pulled apart, I kept my nose pressed to his.

"I love you so much."

~

Morning came too soon.

The air was damp with the lingering chill of night, and the sun barely peeked through the heavy clouds overhead. Daryl was already up, crouched by the fire, unnecessarily stoking the dying embers like he was trying to keep his hands busy.

Today was the day.

"We should check out the military base," he said abruptly, not looking at any of us as we reached a fork in the woods. "Merle was stationed there once, might be somethin' useful left."

Glenn frowned. "That's not why we're here."

Daryl shot him a look. "Yeah, well, no point wastin' a trip."

I knew what he was doing.

He didn't want an audience when he was forced to confront the life he'd tried so hard to forget.

Maggie and Glenn nodded, shifting gears in their heads. They knew Daryl wasn't going to budge.

Carol kept her eyes fixed on him though, concerned.

He turned to me last. "Yur goin' with 'em, Ath."

I crossed my arms. "The hell I am."

"Ath-"

"No."

His jaw clenched. "I don't need ya there."

"That's not the point."

He let out a frustrated breath, running a hand over his face. "Ain't nothin' there for ya."

And there it was.

This wasn't about me. It wasn't even about Merle and Beth at this point. This was about the parts of himself he didn't want to share - the parts that were still tangled up in his parents, in childhood, in whatever ghosts waited for him in his former home.

I softened, stepping closer with one last-ditch attempt. "You don't have to do this alone."

"Yeah, I do." Daryl shook his head, eyes darting away. He planted a half-hearted kiss on my head. "Be safe."

Before I could argue, he turned and walked off, disappearing into the trees.

I stood there for a moment, watching the spot where he'd vanished, frustration curling in my chest.

Carol tipped her head at me, gesturing that I should follow him. I'd already had the same idea.

Neither of us wanted him to do this alone.

Let me tell you - trying to sneakily follow somebody who's spent their whole life hunting - without getting caught - is not easy. I had to hang far back, waiting until I lost sight of him each time before rushing forwards, trying to lay eyes on him again.

I felt guilty for following him. He'd made it damn clear that he wanted to go alone, but I hated the thought of not being there for him if he needed me - or if he ran into trouble on the way. I knew deep down I was probably being selfish, disrespectful, but I couldn't stop myself.

He eventually halted, standing outside a battered shack, hands in his pockets and his head bowed. He spat at the ground before leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

It was smaller than I had pictured. A squat, weather-worn thing, barely holding itself together. The roof sagged, the windows were covered with old wooden slats, and the front steps were rotted through. It looked more like a place someone had abandoned decades ago, not somewhere Daryl and Merle had once called home.

He finally raised his eyes but still just stood there, staring ahead.

I didn't say anything. Didn't move from behind the treeline.

Minutes passed.

I wasn't sure if it was the worry that he might not find Merle here after all, or just the painful memories the building was bringing up keeping him frozen in place.

Then, finally, he stepped forward, tentatively climbed what was left of the steps, and disappeared inside.

I waited. Counting.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen Minutes.

I had no intention of going in. I'd already ignored him enough by coming this far. But when I heard the crashes - glass shattering, something heavy slamming against the walls - my body moved before my mind could catch up.

If Daryl was in trouble, I couldn't stay put.

The second I stepped inside, the air changed.

Dust, damp wood, stale beer - it all clung to the walls, thick and suffocating. The silence was heavy now, pressing in, wrapping around my ribs. This wasn't just silence after a fight. This was the kind of quiet that came after someone had lost control.

A broken bottle lay shattered near the doorway, its amber liquid seeping into the floor. The old table had been shoved against the wall, one leg cracked, teetering. The faded couch had deep gouges in the armrest where something - Daryl's knife, maybe - had been driven in repeatedly. A chair lay on its side, its legs splintered.

And then there was him.

Daryl sat slumped in a battered armchair in the corner, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His hands hung between his legs, knuckles scraped and white from clenching too hard. His shoulders heaved, breath ragged. The side of his face caught the light, and I saw the damp trail of a tear he hadn't managed to wipe away fast enough.

My stomach twisted.

He wasn't hurt. Not physically. But this? This was worse.

I exhaled slowly, my heart pounding.

I shouldn't be here, he wasn't going to be happy - but how could I leave now, after seeing him like this?

Daryl's head snapped up, and his whole body locked tight, shoulders rigid, eyes furious. His face twisted into something sharp, something dark. For a moment, he just stared, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Then, as if snapping out of it, he turned away from me abruptly. One hand swiped angrily at the dampness on his cheek while the other gripped the back of the chair, like he needed something to anchor him.

"I told ya not to come," he growled, voice rough, raw.

I took a slow, careful step forward. "I was worried about you."

His fingers curled tighter around the chair. "This ain't ya business," he ground out.

The words stung, but I refused to back down. "I'm sorry. I was just-"

"Just what!?" His voice cracked like a whip, fraying at the edges. "Just followin' me!? The one thing I asked ya not to do!? Fuck!"

He pushed himself upright so fast that the chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor. He didn't get close, but I could feel the heat of his frustration, the barely contained rage vibrating in his muscles.

Only, it wasn't just rage.

It was hurt. Shame.

Daryl was coming undone.

"Why can't ya listen?" he seethed, voice shaking.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I-"

"Ya don't get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "Ain't nothin' here but shit I don't wanna remember. Merle, neither."

I paused before softly asking, "Then why did you come?"

His breath hitched, his face twisting like I'd struck a nerve. He raked both hands through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands, like he was trying to hold himself together.

"Because ya wouldn't let it go," he snapped. "Ya wanted to come here. Ya wanted to check. Not me."

I hesitated. "I just thought-"

"Well, ya thought wrong," he cut in, voice sharp, shaking. "I told ya they ain't here. I knew before we even left. But ya kept pushin', kept hopin'. And I can't - I can't tell ya no when ya look at me like that."

Something twisted inside me.

"So you came here... for me?"

Daryl let out a rough, bitter laugh, pacing now. His hands flexed at his sides. "Yeah. And now we're here. Now ya seen it."

I didn't move. "Please, Daryl... help me understand."

Silence.

His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. He turned away again, bracing both hands against the wall, his breath unsteady.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed an old side table and threw it hard against the wall. The violent crashing sound echoed around the room, a cloud of dust kicked up in its wake.

"Ya really wanna know!?" he barked, spinning to face me, chest heaving. "It ain't just 'cause it's a dump! Ain't 'cause it's some sad-ass reminder of where I come from!"

He gestured wildly around the room, voice shaking. "It's 'cause it ain't changed! Same damn floor I slept on when I was too tired or drunk to care! Same cabinets Merle used to stash his shit in! Same goddamn roof I spent years under knowin' I was nothin' more than a redneck piece a' trash that didn't mean nothin' to nobody!"

His voice cracked.

My chest tightened. I watched him, waiting.

Daryl exhaled sharply, his hands trembling. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

"Ya think I wanna be here? Ya think I wanna remember?" His eyes locked onto mine, raw, unguarded. "I came for ya. 'Cause ya couldn't stop hopin'. But I knew - I knew they wouldn't be here."

Tears burned behind my eyes.

Daryl raked a hand through his hair. "Fuck."

His voice cracked again.

I couldn't take it anymore. I stepped forward, reaching for him.

But he jerked back like I'd burned him.

His eyes flashed with something almost desperate. "Don't."

"Baby-"

"I don't need yur pity," he snapped. His voice was shaking.

"It's not pity." My voice was steady, even as my hands trembled at my sides. "It's love."

For a second, he just stared at me, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Then, like all the fight had drained out of him at once, he sank back onto the chair, burying his face in his hands.

I didn't move. I just waited.

The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn't thick with anger. It was thick with something else.

Defeat. Exhaustion. Maybe even relief.

After a long while, he spoke, voice muffled by his palms.

"I never wanted ya to see this."

His hands lowered slightly, just enough for me to see his eyes.

Broken.

Vulnerable.

Real.

"You're not the same person that lived here, Daryl."

He scoffed, but there was no humor to it.

"You're not. And it doesn't matter who you were before. I love you. I love all of you - including this part."

"This part?" His voice broke as he gestured to the damage he'd done around us, looking regretful, ashamed."Ya can't love this."

His hands flexed again, restless, anxious. He turned sharply toward a door, looking for escape.

I followed, despite knowing he didn't want to me.

His old bedroom was smaller than I expected. An old army surplus trunk sat at the foot of the bed, a broken fishing rod leaning in the corner. A wooden nightstand stood open beside a dust-covered mattress.

I caught a glimpse of things inside. A pocketknife. A rusted lighter.

And a photograph.

Daryl's fingers twitched when he saw it. He snatched it up before I could reach for it.

But I'd already seen enough.

A woman with a cigarette clamped between her fingers, two little boys sitting in her lap. I knew which one was Daryl straight away. There was no escaping those shockingly blue eyes.

He was small, all toothy grin and scuffed knees, looking up at the other boy adoringly - Merle. Even then, his big brother had that familiar smirk.

Something lodged in my throat.

Daryl shoved the photo into his pocket. His eyes gave me an unspoken 'Get out of here'.

He kicked the mattress in anger, the pillow shifted.

Two things were revealed underneath.

A tiny, threadbare teddy bear, no bigger than the palm of my hand, it's features worn away.

And a book.

Daryl stared at them like they'd physically struck him. His breath came fast, his whole body tensed like a coiled wire.

Then, before I could speak, he snatched the book up and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud and slipped to the floor.

He spun toward the door, shoulders heaving as he left the room, the main door slamming behind him as he exited the shack. My eyes drifted to the book that now laid on the bare floorboards.

I moved toward it without thinking, picking it up.

Dealing with Childhood Abuse

I dropped like I'd been electrocuted.

Tears started spilling down my face as I dropped to my knees, the wind knocked out of me.

I'd seen Daryl's scars, heard him and Merle's conversation about their dad, but deep down, I'd always hoped I'd misconstrued it, got the wrong end of the stick.

But now I knew.

I buried my face in my hands, crying hysterically over the thought of anybody hurting the little boy I'd just seen in the photo - of someone hurting Daryl.

~

It was a while before I managed to pull myself together. Daryl would be long gone now, back at camp, or maybe out in the woods - avoiding me. It was probably for the best - I wouldn't know what to say to him.

I pulled myself to my feet, scrubbing my face with my hands. I stuffed the small teddy bear into my pack, not able to leave it behind - I didn't even know why - before leaving the bedroom, and the shack. The light hurt my bleary eyes as I climbed the few steps down to the ground.

"Seen enough?" A tense voice drawled.

Daryl.

I didn't answer. I was surprised to see him still here, waiting just across the perimeter of the overgrown yard.

"Wasn't gon' leave ya out here alone."

It was obvious from his tone and his refusal to look at me that he'd stayed only to keep me safe, not because he wanted to be around me.

We walked back in silence, me trailing slightly behind him.

At camp, he slumped against a tree, staring into the distance. I knew he was waiting for the others to return before he could escape the tension. Even in this state, he wouldn't risk leaving me here alone, but it was clear he was itching to disappear

The voices of the others returning carried through the trees. Daryl didn't wait for them to come into view. He knew they were here.

He stood up, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, and started walking away.

My eyes filled with tears, but I held them back. "Please don't go."

He stopped, turning slightly but not making eye contact. "I'll be back."

"Don't..." I whispered.

"Gotta." Was all he mumbled before continuing to walk out of sight.

I knew Daryl.

This was his way of trying to calm himself, to process everything, breathe, escape. He needed to be alone.

And no matter how much it hurt - I had to let him go.

A/N: This one felt so sad to write.

Daryl returning home isn't something I've read in any other fics, so I wanted to give it a go. I also wanted to reference the moment in S5 where Daryl drops the same book when he's out with Carol, searching for Beth.

I'd love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! ❤️