bakerstreet | YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

Daryl barely exchanges a look with Paul before he turns, pistol in one hand, knife in the other. It doesn't take him long to spot the curve of a shoulder barely visible through foliage - the shift in it tells him which direction they're leaning. He points the gun.

"Put your shit down and come out!"

Someone behind the person he's got in his sights panics and scrambles away. They're not facing them so Daryl's aim doesn't waiver.

"You heard me."

"I heard you." A woman, tense. "Hunter's dead?"

"He is."

"I'll come out. I'm going to put down my rifle." There's a thunk, and he sees it pushes nose-first towards him on the ground-- stupid or nervous, and he grabs for it and meets no resistance or bullet, so must be the latter.

Paul doesn't move while this happens - Daryl's taking care of it and he has to make sure the guy on the ground doesn't try anything. He doesn't have any weapons left on him, but they both know what they can do without a weapon and it's best to be safe despite how bumbling this group seems to be.

"Anything else? No weapons left. We didn't come out here to fight. You brought the fight to us."

There's a silence before a real big hunting knife gets slid across the ground too. At an angle at least, so it's easier to grab. A span of several seconds later and the woman steps out into the open with her hands up.

Paul wonders how they survived this far into the end of the world if they're this bad at things, but stranger things have happened.

"Anyone else?"

She shakes her head, looking nervous. Either she's lying or scared or both.

Daryl's instinct is to continue to be hostile, but he reconsiders knowing Paul will follow his lead. He should probably keep things to a balance, and despite everything, he has a hard time being violent towards women.

"C'mon, sit," he instructs, pointing a meter away from them, not in arm's reach. As she unsteadily begins to comply, Daryl jerks the rifle forward and hands it back to Paul, all not taking his eyes off the unknown woman. She looks terrified, and Daryl thinks it's legit: she's pale, shock-like, and her shots were terrible. He's got an idea of what's going on here and doesn't like it.

"You gonna explain yourselves?"

It's better here in the middle, a little more human, if any of them can still be called that. Paul finally straightens and brings the wounded man up to a sitting position so he's not face-down on the ground anymore, looking at his shoulder skeptically. It's not just a graze, but he'll live. "Could be worse," he observes, making sure he's steady before reaching out to snatch the rifle and keep it close.

He looks at the woman and takes in her expression, her stance.

She doesn't say anything.

"We were protecting ourselves," the man finally says, quiet.

It strikes a chord. "From who?"

He's not sure he actually wants to hear it.

"Please take me with you," the woman blurts suddenly, and the man Paul's got immediately lunges forward and yells-- "SHUT UP YOU STUPID BITCH--"

She flinches back and that's all Daryl needs to see. He plants the barrel of his gun directly between the guy's eyes, pressed up against his forehead, and he freezes. The only reason he hasn't pulled the trigger yet is he's sitting in front of Paul, and he doesn't want a through-and-through to hit the younger man.

"Were you with Negan?"

"Wh-what- who?"

Paul's already about to yank him back violently when Daryl does the quick work for him and he stills instead. He doesn't move and maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's not. It's unclear even when he catches Daryl's gaze briefly.

"The Saviors," he supplies, "were you with the Saviors?" He sounds like he doesn't quite believe the confusion. It does seem genuine though.

"No, we were--" "SHUT UP--"

Now Paul does move and he's leaning over the man's back, knife to his throat. Pressing in but not slicing - he looks grim. "Let's keep calm. Indoor voices before we call any unwanted guests over." There's no worries about a through-and-through this way. At least the guy has stopped trying to lurch forward even if he's refusing to say anything more. "Tell us all about it."

"Our group was attacked. We don't know by who, but almost all of us were killed."

A brief silence before: "how many were in your group? How many attacked you?"

Another fussed exchange, the woman trying to talk and the man half-shouting over her.

"That's enough," Daryl mutters, and gives Paul a look, tilting his head to urge Paul to lean away so he can just kill the guy. This is stupid, she'll talk to them just fine. And even if this group was being hassled by the Saviors, that doesn't make them saints.

Paul hesitates. He also doesn't move. He catches Daryl's eyes for a moment and shakes his head minutely. No, not right now. Or at least, not like this.

He shifts his weight, not saying anything, but as soon as the man opens his mouth to speak again while trying to jerk out of his grip Paul uses the knife for a one-hit dispatch, a quick and swift jab through the base of the skull that severs the spinal cord from the brain stem. It's always a little harder to get through the skull of someone that hasn't been rotting a while (somehow), but it's fine. They've all done it before.

Anyway, Daryl's already killed someone today.

Balance.

"Go ahead and tell us about who attacked you."

Edited 2017-03-25 07:37 (UTC)

Daryl picks up on what he's doing, and shifts his attention back to the woman to watch her reaction - she winces, but there's a kind of trembling relief about her, too. It pings on enough of his radars to understand.

She explains: they're a small group, being harassed by another, meaner small group. When Daryl asks why she asked to come with them, she haltingly admits that their group used to be two, that she and her later sister were taken in by men who seemed friendly, at first.

He doesn't ask why they stayed. He knows.

"Who ran?"

He's not sorry the men are dead. Of course he isn't. Not now. When he straightens he moves back to Daryl's side, shoulders minutely less tense.

She tells them that the last person is the last person in the group: another man, a coward, unlikely to retaliate unless given ample opportunity. Paul knows better than to relax about it though, just nodding a little.

"I want to ask you something. Are you that bad a shot, was it because you were scared, or were you missing on purpose?"

Most of the actual problems had come from different angles. His voice is quiet, non-threatening.

Sort of the last two, she tells them.

"We could be just as bad," he points out, about her request for sanctuary. "Or worse."

The woman looks him dead in the eyes and says At least the scenery would be different.

Daryl snorts. "Fair 'nuff. Alright, c'mon." --What? C'mon? That's it? Daryl 'not trusting anyone ever again, definitely going to murder everybody' Dixon is just going to let this chick come back with them? Apparently. "You're helpin' us get the car back up there on the road, though, if there's any funny business, you know what's happening to you."

Considering two men are already dead. She nods gravely, and Daryl keeps one eye on her while he and Paul search the still-warm bodies for anything else useful; coldly, Daryl takes their shoes and belts, and one jacket. It puts an unsettling spin on his facade of generosity, and once they're back on the road, he puts her in the passenger seat and sits behind her, gun held ready.

"Somebody else come through here recently? With a kid?"

It's probably a weird time for Paul to smile, but c'mon makes him do it anyway. He doesn't shoot Daryl a look because he knows it's going to broadcast in his expression - he starts scavenging the bodies. One of them has a hat but it's covered in blood so he leaves it; instead he gathers up all their weapons and puts them in the back with the things Daryl collected. There are a couple other things too, but nothing substantial. That's fine.

Paul drives back steadily; it's usually time to head all the way back when one finds a person, so that's what he's doing. He's listening to the conversation but the way she tenses when Daryl asks her that tells him a lot.

There was a family a while back, she explains, probably not to begin with but they'd been one then. The men in her group had run them off the road and they'd hit a tree. None of them survived. She sounds real upset. Had a kid of her own in the beginning, maybe.

Paul's grip on the steering wheel tightens hard and then relaxes again.

Well. Shit.

"My name's Shauna," she says eventually, sounding sad.

"Daryl," he grunts in response, and tells himself to let it go. They already knew the kid was dead. Not like they could have helped anything. (Except come out here a month ago and-- not worth dwelling on. He'll tell Rick about this when they come back, and see about getting the gang together to come burn these fuckers out.)

Once Jesus is through Jesusing, Daryl explains: "M'gonna blindfold you in a bit here, for the ride back. Just in case. When we get where we're going, you're gonna talk to one of our folks in charge and do what they tell you. You know how it is out here."

She knows.

It's sad anyway. Paul rubs his thumbs over the material of the steering wheel habitually, which is probably something Daryl will notice since he does it whenever he's pensive or reeling himself in. He listens to those introductions before starting his own.

"Paul," he says, "but most people call me Jesus." It's different from how he introduced himself to Rick and Daryl - a lot of people that call him Jesus are his friends, but Gregory isn't his friend. Daryl doesn't call him Jesus. Rick calls him Paul sometimes, switching between as the situation dictates. Things are complicated when you have family, he guesses.

ANYWAY Shauna gives him an odd look that he's used to but it does make her almost-but-not-quite smile because yeah, it's absurd. He's quiet until she's blindfolded and they're rolling a little closer to home. "How long has it been since you've had any kind of group that wasn't them?" He's not going to ask the questions of course, but it fills the silence.

"About ten months. For four months it was just my sister and me, then six months with them."

A long time. He doesn't have to comment on that.

They're about fifteen minutes out still.

Time passes so much slower in the new world, Daryl thinks. It feels like it's been a decade, two, a damn ice age, but he looks at Judith and knows it's just that they've been mentally reborn. Something about days being longer for babies because their brains haven't adjusted yet; they're all new to this. Every moment is a lifetime.

Daryl touches Paul's shoulder to get his attention silently, and points at the road, drawing a pattern in the air with his index finger to indicate they double-back at a specific landmark ahead, then come back in at a different road. It'll waste some gas, but if anyone tries to track them, this is the safer bet.

Paul wonders what he was doing ten months ago. Not a whole hell of a lot, really. Doing runs to give supplies to the Saviors. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Spending most of his time out on the road. And now... this. So much has changed in so little time that it's almost overwhelming, but even that short amount of time feels more like ages. Sometimes it's a little like when he was a kid, laying on the top bunk and staring up at the ceiling eight inches from his nose for hours instead of really sleeping. It would drag on and drag on and it always felt never-ending, like he'd fallen into some timeless abyss.

He's still paying attention to the road while he thinks but Daryl's touch almost startles him. Not quite. He watches and then nods, gaze flicking back to Daryl's face. He offers him a tense little smile before looking back to what he's doing. There's not much to talk about so he doesn't really, not even in his usual chatty and diversionary way. He loops back where they'd agreed, heading out another way through some confusing little back roads they'd found. It's not too bumpy, at least. It'll also mean that if anyone's trailing them they'll have to hold off because they'll be immediately found out from the sound alone.

At one point he flips down the visor to check his beanie for blood and when, yeah, it's gross now, he scowls and flips it back up. He loses more hats that way, really. Whatever, near everyone living in a real community can get blood stains out these days. Weirdo.

For a little while, Daryl leaves his hand on Paul's shoulder, just offering a point of contact and-- something. Support or... whatever. It was a fine run and it's gone strange and unsettling, not near bad enough to be a disaster but still leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He gets it, when the younger man goes quiet. And it's fine that he does it, because Daryl gets that, too.

Still, though. It's a silent you're not alone, neither am I when Daryl gives his shoulder one last squeeze and settles back, gun remaining trained at Shauna's back the entire time.

"Holy up," Daryl says when they're in sight of Alexandria's gates, breaking long minutes of silence. There are more cars than usual hovering outside.

The hand does make him feel a little calmer, which isn't something he could have said a while back. The silent understanding is... It's something he never knew he needed. He shifts as he drives, hand coming up to brush his thumb across Daryl's knuckles before he puts his hand back on the steering wheel. That's all he needs to do. I know you're here and I'm staying is enough.

He slows almost to a stop as they approach the gates, leaning forward and squinting to see what's going on. There aren't any foreboding trucks thankfully, just the cars, but as it is he doesn't recognize all of them. His gaze sweeps across the nearby space looking for Rick or Michonne or Carl or anyone else, but there aren't really any people visible at the moment, just the cars, which is almost more unsettling.

Instead of heading in proper he pulls off, situating the car between a couple of the first-defense spiked monstrosities. They've just been cleared recently, at least. Once there he pops the gear into park and turns off the engine, knee jiggling slightly as he looks back at Daryl. "You good to hunker down here?"

You good to get the fuck out of here if it's Saviors?

It's a little Kill Bill Sirens in the backseat for a minute, but Daryl eventually grunts an affirmative and begins loading his crossbow and making sure his side-arm is ready to go.

"Take the blindfold off," he tells Shauna, who complies. She's wisely staying quiet, but isn't oblivious to the tension now filling the car. "Act natural. Y'all're friends from Hilltop 'til he says otherwise."

Fuck this fucking bullshit. Daryl slings his bow over his shoulder and exits the car, darting off the road and into cover.

Said Kill Bill Sirens are perfectly palpable to Paul and probably also Shauna, who definitely looks nervous. As well she should. He waits until Daryl is fully behind cover - when Paul can't see him at all any more - feeling strung tight and twisted up like a spring about to snap. He starts up the car again and pulls out and then back onto the main road.

There are still no people to see really - no dead either, thankfully - though when he pulls up to the gate no one comes to open it. He sits a moment, sits a moment longer, then jams the car into park again and takes the keys. "Stay put."

She doesn't move.

Instead of trying to drag the gate open from the outside (stupid) he carefully climbs the chain link so he can peek over the edge of it. Then he drops back down, letting out a shrill bird's call whistle. Trouble. But not Saviors, no.

Daryl doesn't coming running, instead approaching the wall at an angle, picking through the surrounding trees to stay hidden. The burned-out shell of what used to be the guard tower offers for decent cover, and he whistles a quiet Over here that sounds like absent bird chatter.

No Saviors, but some bullshit's still going on-- he can feel the barely-restrained violence already boiling in him. Doesn't matter if these are Saviors or not, if there's enough wrong for Paul to signal him like that, and there are strangers in his home, with his people, he's just. Going to kill them. That's that.

He waits, though, looking down towards the gate at Paul. What's the play?

Paul's about to answer when he catches movement out the corner of his eye and turns back toward the car - it's Shauna, who is pointing at her own eyes and then toward one of the cars. He realizes what she means immediately and nods, grimacing. Guess they won't have to look for that other group after all. It's not a good thing since now they're in Alexandria but it means they can finish it once and for all here.

He shifts to where Daryl can see him properly, gesturing toward the gate and making an up-and-over motion with his hand. Going over. He's going to scale the gate and open it from the inside. It has to be just him because both of them make a bigger target for someone hidden by on watch and Paul is faster and quieter. He's less likely to get shot. It also means that whatever's still happening, it's further in.

Finally he jerks his chin upward. Come over after. With that, he turns back to the gate and hoists himself up on it again. It's more difficult now that he's aiming for more than a peek but he disappears over the top of it without fanfare. There's no gunshot, no yelling.

Give him a sec, he'll open it up.

Daryl moves, the indecision only in his own head - something twigs him about the car, remembering how cowardly these assholes were. He skirts back, passing behind the car Paul parked and exchanging a look with Shauna. She directs him silently to the right car and Daryl moves in-- fortunately there's nobody in it, but the keys were left in the visor and a gun in the center compartment. Not anymore, assholes.

Daryl sees Shauna out of the car, closing the door oh-so-quietly and moving in a crouched run to join him. "Five of them," she whispers. "Four men and a woman. She and her husband are the worst."

A beat, and Daryl checks the gun he pulled out of the car, then hands it to Shauna. She gives him a grave look and nods, as if trying to silently convey... something. He hopes he hasn't made a mistake, but he doesn't think so. She reminds him of Carol. He moves, Shauna close behind, up to the gate opening.

Turns out they don't have enough people to have lookouts set up everywhere, which is good for them since Paul doesn't get shot and he can open the gate and - pause for a split-second before recovering with a nod and making sure they can slip through before he closes it just as quietly as he'd opened it, latching it so nothing else can get inside. Nothing's on fire, which is good, and there's a dead man on the ground nearby that Paul didn't kill. It's real quiet, so the body was how he knew there was trouble at all.

"That's not the husband," Shauna says softly, grip on the gun still tight. Confirmation they still have to look for the worst of them, though Paul glances at her questioningly before nodding off toward one of the groupings of houses.

"Down that way's the best bet," he murmurs, mostly for Shauna's benefit since he and Daryl rarely speak aloud during situations like this any more. "I can get through without anyone seeing me but so can you, so what'll be our play? I can see if there are any to pick off, get in close."

(That's his family too.)

"They let 'em in, gate's not damaged," Daryl muses. "Either it was a ploy and shit went south the second they were inside, or they had somebody hostage. Either way they're in the middle of it still or that body'd be moved by now."

Hm.

"Go ahead, we'll meet over where the holding cell is. It'll be there or near the infirmary." Which is on the way - they may not have a real doctor anymore, but they've got decent medics. Whether there was a ploy involved or a hostage situation, chances are high they'd pass that way, and if not, they'd try and get these people locked up. Probably. Or Rick's killed most of them already, which Daryl thinks would be fine.

He takes Shauna with him (if she ends up being a mistake, he can't stand to have her with Paul), and doesn't bother sneaking much. It'll offer a distraction and let Paul stay hidden easier. As they move further into the community, he can hear raised voices.

YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

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