they were at Daryl's makeshift campsite in a few moments. Dallas sat on the ground, where he had the night before.
instead of sitting across from him, Daryl sat next to him. he passed his flask, and Dallas took a swig. he cringed at the taste, but could tell immediately it was on the stronger side. he passed it back to Daryl.
"you never answered my question about your mom," Daryl spoke. he was watching him with the same expression as before. Dallas shrugged and looked at the fires ashes.
it wasn't like telling Daryl would do any harm. if anything, talking about it may actually allow him to grieve properly.
"in the beginning our house caught fire while we were sleeping. walkers were coming in. my mom and Tyler ran out, and i was looking for my dad. and the fire grew and grew, i couldn't reach him. he told me to go. she blamed me for him dying," he told the man, accepting the flask as Daryl handed it back. he took a large swing, and held it for a moment. "Tyler looks more like him than i do. has his temper too."
Daryl was still looking at him when he looked back. he looked like he was understanding, and like he genuinely cared.
"sorry about sayin' what i did," Daryl spoke. "i wasn't angry at you."
"i know," Dallas looked down, about to change the subject when Daryl spoke again.
"you don't seem very upset about your dad," he observed.
"because i'm not."
Daryl nodded, and looked towards the sky. the silence and closeness of how they sat was comforting. around Daryl, Dallas felt comfortable to just say nothing. as if his presence was enough to help him feel better.
"what do you think we should do about Randell?" he asked suddenly, his mind drifting to the teenage boy that lay unconscious inside the house.
"i don't know," Daryl responded, leaning back. he rested on his arm, kicking dirt around and drinking from the flask once again. "certainly don't think we should let him walk outta here if he knows this area."
"i agree. maybe he'll prove to be useful. maybe stay here-"
"nah," Daryl didn't even let him finish. "him and his men tried to shoot our people. you want that walking around?"
"i guess not," Dallas replied, and glanced at him. "now that my moms gone, i don't know how to convince Tyler to stay here."
"he wants to leave?"
Dallas nodded.
"yeah. been saying it since we got here. except now he won't speak at all. he had to be sedated when our mom died, and since he woke up he's just completely silent."
Daryl gave him a sympathetic look.
"and it isn't the cool Dixon silent either. it's a weird one."
Dallas chuckled when Daryl gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and a small smile. it was rare to see one of those on his face. Dallas felt the corner of his lips lift up into a smile of his own.
—
Dallas stood outside of the barn doors the next morning. after Randell had woken up, the group decided it best to move him further away from the house.
Daryl was inside with him, alone. he was trying to get answers out of him about his group. Dallas felt himself cringe internally whenever he heard the sound of Daryl punching the boy, and Randell groaning after.
"i've told ya!" he heard Randell speak again.
"you told me shit," Daryl responded, and from peering inside, he could see Daryl pick him up and shove him against the wall. he had been laying after Daryl punched him several times with no response.
"i barely knew those guys!" he tried to explain again. "i met them on the road."
"how many in your group?" Daryl asked him, standing and pacing around him. Randell took a deep breath and hesitated before deciding not to answer.
Daryl took his knife out and changed that real quick.
"no no no- come on man-"
Daryl suddenly leapt forward, driving the knife not even an inch away from his leg, into the wooden floor. he was now face to face with him.
"how many?" he yelled.
"uh- thirty! thirty, thirty guys-"
"where?"
"uh-" Daryl grabbed his leg, and ripped off the bandage that covered his injury. he cried out, turning his head away.
"i don't know, i swear! we were never in the same place more than a night!"
Daryl held the knife to his wound, but didn't push down yet.
"you plan on stayin' local?" Daryl questioned.
"i don't know! they left me behind-"
"you ever pick off a scab?" Daryl asked, leaning closer.
"come on man, i'm trying to cooperate!" Randell cried out, looking as Daryl focused his attention on the knife once again.
"you start real slow at first," he looked back up. "then it's too late, you gotta just rip it off."
"okay! okay. they- they have weapons. heavy stuff. automatics. b-but i didn't do anything!"
"your boys shot at my boys. try to take this farm. you just went along for the ride, you're trying to tell me you're innocent?" with every word, Daryls voice grew louder and louder.
"yes!" Randell yelled. "t-these people took me in. not just guys, a whole group of em."
Daryl stepped back, letting him speak. he still circled him like he was prey.
"men and women, uh- kids too, just like you people. thought i'd have a better chance with them, you know? but we go out, scavenge. just the men. one night, we- we found this little camp sight. a man and his two daughters. teenagers, ya know? real young, real cute."
the way he looked up, Dallas could tell exactly where he was going with his story. and if he knew Daryl well enough; he knew it'd be better if Randell stopped talking right then and there.
Daryl slowly turned to him, his face unreadable. he said nothing, allowing him to continue speaking. Randell sighed.
"daddy had to watch while these guys, they- and the didn't even kill 'em afterwards. they just made them watch. his daughters- just, just left them there," Randell looked up, and fear crossed his face. "n-no, but i didn't touch those girls. i swear, i didn't-"
Daryl didn't even let him finish. he kicked him directly on his leg, on the exposed cut. Randell cried out, and Daryl stopped for a moment. Dallas almost shivered when he saw the look on his face.
"you gotta believe me man, i ain't like that! i'm not like that. i ain't like that," he started to mumbled at the end of his sentence.
Daryl didn't hesitate to kick him again, this time right on his ribs. Dallas watched as Randell cried out. Daryl threw another punch, not even bothering to lift him up this time.
he kept hitting Randell until he inevitably passed out. Daryl kicked him again, for good measure, before turning and walking out. Dallas opened the doors for him, stepping aside to let him walk out.
"what?" Daryl grumbled when he saw Dallas' expression. he just shook his head, and glanced down at his bloody, bruised knuckles.
"that's gonna hurt," Dallas spoke. he took Daryl's crossbow off of his back, and handed it to him once again. he shrugged, wiping some of the blood on his shirt, and started to walk towards the group again.
