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Title: The Dark Before The Dawn (1/2)
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Pairing: Rick/ Daryl
Rating: M
Words: 2840 (8640 total)
Summary: On the road to DC, in the group’s hour of utmost need, Daryl finds an unlikely source of hope.
A/N: A reimagining / AU of the events in S5E10 – Them. Can be read as a standalone, or as being loosely set after My Sweet Darlin’. Inspired by this scene from the episode here.
~
You have to let yourself feel, Carol had said to Daryl.
There’d been wisdom in those words, Daryl thinks now, because he hadn’t been letting himself feel; hadn’t let himself do anything besides hunt for the group, keep them moving, keep them alive, because he couldn’t bear to lose any more of them. Not after the shitstorm that’d gone down at the Grady Memorial, and some trigger-happy cop and her band of crazies had left his friends injured, dying, dead, making Daryl hold onto the ones he had all the tighter.
Then Rick had said the same thing as Carol, more or less, and though it’s been three weeks since what happened in that damned hospital, Daryl’s finding a slow, easy comfort in opening up to him. Letting Rick in, one day at a time.
I know you lost somethin’ back there, Rick had said. It only took Daryl one look to know that Rick meant it; that he wasn’t just offering empty platitudes he didn’t believe.
And it’d only taken Rick several nights, giving Daryl that sweet, doe-eyed look when they were on watch together, just staying silent and still beside him—a method he’d used on Rick enough times—for Daryl’s I don’t wanna talk about it’s to lead to conversations that’d last the night. Rick would rub warmth into Daryl’s shoulders, just hearing and listening in the silence of the night. Bring Judith on occasion, to let Daryl have something warm and alive to focus on, letting him know there were still people here to live for, despite the ones that wouldn’t come back.
Telling Daryl with a bounce of Judith on his knee, and a hand to the small of his back, There’s joy here, if you want it. And there’s love here, if you’ll have it.
It’d worked, what Rick did. Brought Daryl back from the brink.
They’ve established a routine for it by now—Rick gives Daryl an in, an opportunity to talk, to feel, and Daryl will decide if he’s ready by drawing Rick away from the others. And if he’s not, Rick will simply touch and kiss and caress, letting Daryl know he’s loved and adored, even during the time he needs to withdraw into himself.
Except even that’s hard to do when you’re starving and exhausted and there’ve been Walkers dogging your heels for the last few fucking miles.
"I’m gonna head out," Daryl says, handing his gun to Rick. “See what I can find.” They’re short on water and food, and the van they’d been using to get to DC had run out of gas miles back. It’s unfamiliar territory they’re on, this far out from Georgia, but Daryl slings his crossbow over his shoulder all the same, his hands itching to do something, to be useful.
"Want me to come with?" asks Rick, brow furrowed. In his arms, Judith puckers her lips in a pout of commiseration.
There’ve been too many close scrapes and they’ve lost too many people for Daryl to want to let Rick out of his sight, but the man can't track for shit, and sounds like a rampaging elephant on the warpath when he tries. Daryl studies Rick’s face in the fading light instead, watching him hold his baby. Their baby. Thinks to let him have this time, for rest and quiet, for now. And the others, they’re low enough on morale as it is; they need their leader within sight, to keep them steady on the path they’re on.
Daryl’s not even sure he would’ve made it this far, if it hadn’t been for the sight of Judith, filling his heart with a lightness he hasn’t known in years. The constant, calming presence of Rick, enough to settle the raging firestorm within him. "Nah," Daryl says, when he’s drunk his fill of Rick, from the impossible blues of his eyes to the silver threading its way through his beard. "I got this."
The others have walked a ways ahead by now, flowing past them as naturally as a stream alters its course around pebbles, and Rick hitches Judith a little higher in his arms, before reaching out for Daryl.
"Don't be too long," Rick says, quiet enough that the rest of the group can't hear. Cups a hand around the back of Daryl's neck, and brings their mouths together for a kiss.
It’s soft and sweet and just the right amount of slow, and something about it makes Daryl’s heart ache, because it’s what Rick always does when they’re about to part ways. It’s what he’d started doing back at the prison, back when they’d started something, and even now, his habits are the same, the words of affection are the same, and Daryl finds himself aching for things from days past—like lazy afternoons in the summer sun and autumn-cool nights—hell, even the nippy winter mornings that let him and Rick cuddle into the blankets together, safe and warm. When all was right with the world for so short a time.
He wants those days again, wants them so badly it hurts, and whenever Rick does something like this, it reminds him of all the things they’d had that are gone.
But it’s a different world now and Daryl knows it. They don't have the safety of the prison, or even a shelter. Just the open road before them, and miles to go before they sleep.
At least he still has this—Rick, here beside him. Judith, Carl, all of them. They’ve lost everything else, but at least he still has this.
“Daryl?” Rick says, softer now. He's layers of dirt upon sweat and covered in days' worth of dust, but Daryl thinks Rick looks beautiful like this, wild and rough, nearly every bit of that goody-two-shoes cop burned out of him long ago. Nearly, Daryl thinks, though it hasn’t burnt out the heart of Rick, the man that protects the people he loves with all his might.
The man who, when Daryl had been shot back at the Greene farm, crumpling like the rag doll he’d been carrying, had screamed no like his heart was breaking, no, over a nothing, a nobody. A nobody he’d looked in the eye only the day before and told You don’t owe us anything, like Daryl was on equal footing, didn’t have to claw and scrape to get back into anyone’s good graces.
The man who’s seen every one of Daryl’s scars, twisted marks of his life upon skin, and still—
“Daryl,” Rick says again, worry slipping into his voice this time. His palm tightens around the back of Daryl’s neck, moving to pull him closer, and in the crook of his other arm, Judith makes a noise of protest at being squished further between them.
“Yeah,” says Daryl, to show that he’s heard, to show that he’s here. That he’s come back from that place in his mind where Rick can’t follow. He closes an arm around Judith, so Rick doesn’t have to bear the burden of her weight alone, as they stand in place, breathing each other’s air and sharing in the pleasure of their closeness.
Rick gives him the softest, sweetest smile, made all the lovelier from the pale sunlight filtering through the clouds and treeline above. And something twists in Daryl’s chest at that, makes it hard to breathe, because some part of him tells him he doesn’t deserve this man, or his family, or picture-perfect moments like these, of kissing with their baby between them, and he’s suddenly afraid of it all being taken from him, now that he cares.
It’d been easier at the start, when they were just nameless faces that he and Merle had set out to rob, but now—
More than fear of dying of hunger or thirst, Daryl is afraid of losing his family. And don’t that just beat all.
Rick must see something in his expression, because he calls out for Carol to take Judith for a moment. Lifts Judith up and hands her over when Carol comes back, even as Judith reaches out chubby fingers for Daryl in the process. Her mouth’s puckered in preparation for a howl when she finds she’s not being handed to Daryl, but then Carol’s cradling her head, weaving her spell of ancient mother’s magic through hushed, whispered nothings and kisses to her soft, wispy hair, and when Judith settles into her arms like a sleepy kitten, they know she’s in good hands.
“Hey,” says Rick. He winds fingers around Daryl’s wrist as he lets the group get a little further ahead of them, but still within calling distance. Gives them a space where they can be alone. His touch is warm against Daryl’s skin, safe, even though Daryl knows they’re never really safe these days.
Daryl eyes the herd of slow-moving Walkers down the road, still doggedly tailing their group. While they’re not a long way off, there’s time for this comfort that Rick’s offering, so he lets himself sink easy into Rick’s touch, needing the reassurance, craving it.
“Hey,” Rick says again, ducking his head in the way his gaze can meet Daryl’s. It’s something Daryl’s always hated as much as he admired, and truth be told, needed, because it meant Rick being on the same level. The same wavelength. “We’ll be here when you get back. We’ll all be here.”
“I know, I’m just—” Daryl manages, before the knot of emotion forms in his throat, and he has to swallow around it, hard. “Just tired of losin’ people.” He watches Rick with his too-scruffy beard, the lines of tension written into his shoulders and face, and his first desperate thought is I can’t lose you.
“Yeah,” says Rick, softly. “Me too.” He presses his palm against Daryl’s cheek, cradling it. Daryl’s struck by the urge to cover Rick’s hand with his own, to nuzzle into his touch, and maybe months ago he wouldn’t have—too sappy, too sentimental, or some such shit—but this is now, and he does.
He gives barely a thought to how ridiculous they look, with a backpack that doubles as a baby carrier pressed between them. Rick’s other arm looped about his waist, moving in close, until their noses are pressed together, warm, nuzzling. Their hips. Their knees. Like they’re creeper vines taking comfort in each other as they arc toward the sun, together.
“Not gonna lose us,” Rick murmurs into his ear. He pauses as he leans away, seeing the look in Daryl’s eyes, and Daryl realizes he must look hunted, fearful somehow, because Rick nods, determined, as if he’s realized something. Leans in, close, to make promises he has no right making. No way of keeping. “Not gonna lose me.”
“Not you,” Daryl says, his voice too hoarse by half. The words are out before he can take them back, pretend they were never said. “Not ever.” His fingers twist tight into the cloth of Rick’s shirt, the soft cotton of it balled into fists. He couldn’t bear to lose Carl or Judith, either. Not Glenn or Maggie, not Carol. Not a single one of them.
But losing Rick? Losing Rick would break him. Send him over an edge he’s not sure he could ever return from.
Rick cups the back of his neck, shifting them until their foreheads are pressed together, providing comfort at each point of contact, from forehead to brow to nose. Offers a reassuring little nuzzle with the tip of his nose. “Not ever.”
It’s a moment more before Daryl realizes Rick’s making little shushing noises, the kind Carol makes when she’s trying to calm Judith’s howling, as he rubs small, soothing circles into Daryl’s back.
“Ain’t gotta shush me, Rick,” Daryl mumbles. “I’m a grown damn man.” But in a way, he’s relieved, because this reassurance has been what he’s needed. This comfort that only Rick can provide.
Rick huffs a laugh at that, and even when he stops his soothing susurrus of shh, shh, shh, he replaces it with the gentle motion of carding fingers through Daryl’s hair. Slides fingers through it, gentle, like he’s stroking the finest silk, even if it’s days-dirty and tangled. Slants his mouth up to kiss Daryl, again and again, each press of lips careful, affectionate, warm, to his cheeks. The corners of his mouth. Like he knows of no other way to assure Daryl they’ll be all right for the time he’s away.
“All right, I get it,” Daryl grunts, fighting the urge to tangle fingers into Rick’s unruly curls, because if he does, he’ll never leave. “Goddamn, Rick, you’ll scare away the game with all your carryin’ on.” There’s a heat blooming in his cheeks, and he knows it, but he can’t will it away, and he won’t.
Rick’s never been good at hiding how he’s feeling from Daryl either, and by the look in Rick’s eyes, soft and warm and adoring, Daryl can tell Rick thinks he looks adorable like this, blushing to his roots. As he predicts, Rick steps in even closer, circling Daryl’s waist with both arms now, for a messier, wetter kiss, one that steals the breath from Daryl’s lungs, leaves him gasping and digging fingers into Rick’s shoulders for support.
“Hey, are you guys all ri—oh,” says Glenn, back-pedalling a little as he stumbles upon them. “Sorry, sorry.” He knows better than anyone what it’s like to be interrupted in the middle of a hella good kiss, and scurries back to Maggie, his head down, eyes averted, like he hasn’t just seen them making out like two horny teenagers.
By now, the group has turned back and wandered in their direction to see if they need help, and while the weak whistles in their direction grate on Daryl’s nerves, he knows they don’t mean anything cruel by it.
It was Michonne first, then Carol, who’d told him the same thing months ago. That what he and Rick had was like what Glenn and Maggie had; was what Judith meant to them. That they were all small beacons of hope in an otherwise gray world. Showing the others there was still something beautiful in this world, despite the horrors that surrounded them now.
He’d wanted to shrug off their presumptions, irritated, and say Mind your own damn business, but that was the Daryl of years past, and he’d only just shrugged and tipped them a quick nod.
At Abraham’s catcall, one that rises above the rest from the sheer, rough rumble of it, Rick only laughs, the sound of it soft and low. And even if his smile doesn’t light his eyes the way it used to, Daryl will take it. Resolves to find a way to bring that light back, whatever it takes.
“I gotta…” Daryl tries, nodding toward the trees. “Before we lose the light.” He’s thinking of miming the use of the crossbow to hunt game, but as always, Rick’s on the same wavelength, and he’s already nodding back, worried at the drift of impending clouds across the sun. The seemingly early set of it, now that they’ve spent most of the day walking.
“I know.” Rick hooks his fingers through the belt loops of Daryl’s pants, and leans in for one last, bruising kiss. Fixes him with a look that says Come back to me. They’re not words Rick would’ve said back at the prison, or even the farm, when he hadn’t as much reason to worry about their safety. Daryl’s safety. But Daryl knows that look now, knows the love that burns bright and fierce in Rick’s eyes when he looks at Daryl like that, the command inherent in just a glance.
Come back to me—safe and whole and alive.
Daryl nods, and before he turns to the woods, he cups Rick’s elbow for a simple squeeze, fingers lingering even as his touch falls away.
I will.
~
Daryl stays alert, his footsteps light and careful, because he’s not exactly familiar with this terrain, and his motto of woods are woods isn’t exactly applicable when even the past couple stretches of trees have been different. They’re not the tall, Georgia pines he’s used to, but broader, leafier things that rustle unnaturally under his boots, and he finds himself working harder to adapt to this new environment. Expending more energy than he should, to keep quiet and maintain the deadly silence of a hunter.
He’s not a few minutes out into the woods when behind him, a twig snaps, and Daryl whips around, crossbow up. Doesn’t bother snapping Come out, I know you’re there. Just makes sure he’s readied a bolt and waits, steady, silent.
Before long, something crashes through the brush, and Daryl’s not sure if he thinks holy shit, or says it, or swears it with all the gusto of a drunk discovering he’s fresh out of moonshine.
Because he’s seen a lot of things since the world went to hell, but he’s never quite seen this.
(tbc - Chapter 2)
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Pairing: Rick/ Daryl
Rating: M
Words: 2840 (8640 total)
Summary: On the road to DC, in the group’s hour of utmost need, Daryl finds an unlikely source of hope.
A/N: A reimagining / AU of the events in S5E10 – Them. Can be read as a standalone, or as being loosely set after My Sweet Darlin’. Inspired by this scene from the episode here.
You have to let yourself feel, Carol had said to Daryl.
There’d been wisdom in those words, Daryl thinks now, because he hadn’t been letting himself feel; hadn’t let himself do anything besides hunt for the group, keep them moving, keep them alive, because he couldn’t bear to lose any more of them. Not after the shitstorm that’d gone down at the Grady Memorial, and some trigger-happy cop and her band of crazies had left his friends injured, dying, dead, making Daryl hold onto the ones he had all the tighter.
Then Rick had said the same thing as Carol, more or less, and though it’s been three weeks since what happened in that damned hospital, Daryl’s finding a slow, easy comfort in opening up to him. Letting Rick in, one day at a time.
I know you lost somethin’ back there, Rick had said. It only took Daryl one look to know that Rick meant it; that he wasn’t just offering empty platitudes he didn’t believe.
And it’d only taken Rick several nights, giving Daryl that sweet, doe-eyed look when they were on watch together, just staying silent and still beside him—a method he’d used on Rick enough times—for Daryl’s I don’t wanna talk about it’s to lead to conversations that’d last the night. Rick would rub warmth into Daryl’s shoulders, just hearing and listening in the silence of the night. Bring Judith on occasion, to let Daryl have something warm and alive to focus on, letting him know there were still people here to live for, despite the ones that wouldn’t come back.
Telling Daryl with a bounce of Judith on his knee, and a hand to the small of his back, There’s joy here, if you want it. And there’s love here, if you’ll have it.
It’d worked, what Rick did. Brought Daryl back from the brink.
They’ve established a routine for it by now—Rick gives Daryl an in, an opportunity to talk, to feel, and Daryl will decide if he’s ready by drawing Rick away from the others. And if he’s not, Rick will simply touch and kiss and caress, letting Daryl know he’s loved and adored, even during the time he needs to withdraw into himself.
Except even that’s hard to do when you’re starving and exhausted and there’ve been Walkers dogging your heels for the last few fucking miles.
"I’m gonna head out," Daryl says, handing his gun to Rick. “See what I can find.” They’re short on water and food, and the van they’d been using to get to DC had run out of gas miles back. It’s unfamiliar territory they’re on, this far out from Georgia, but Daryl slings his crossbow over his shoulder all the same, his hands itching to do something, to be useful.
"Want me to come with?" asks Rick, brow furrowed. In his arms, Judith puckers her lips in a pout of commiseration.
There’ve been too many close scrapes and they’ve lost too many people for Daryl to want to let Rick out of his sight, but the man can't track for shit, and sounds like a rampaging elephant on the warpath when he tries. Daryl studies Rick’s face in the fading light instead, watching him hold his baby. Their baby. Thinks to let him have this time, for rest and quiet, for now. And the others, they’re low enough on morale as it is; they need their leader within sight, to keep them steady on the path they’re on.
Daryl’s not even sure he would’ve made it this far, if it hadn’t been for the sight of Judith, filling his heart with a lightness he hasn’t known in years. The constant, calming presence of Rick, enough to settle the raging firestorm within him. "Nah," Daryl says, when he’s drunk his fill of Rick, from the impossible blues of his eyes to the silver threading its way through his beard. "I got this."
The others have walked a ways ahead by now, flowing past them as naturally as a stream alters its course around pebbles, and Rick hitches Judith a little higher in his arms, before reaching out for Daryl.
"Don't be too long," Rick says, quiet enough that the rest of the group can't hear. Cups a hand around the back of Daryl's neck, and brings their mouths together for a kiss.
It’s soft and sweet and just the right amount of slow, and something about it makes Daryl’s heart ache, because it’s what Rick always does when they’re about to part ways. It’s what he’d started doing back at the prison, back when they’d started something, and even now, his habits are the same, the words of affection are the same, and Daryl finds himself aching for things from days past—like lazy afternoons in the summer sun and autumn-cool nights—hell, even the nippy winter mornings that let him and Rick cuddle into the blankets together, safe and warm. When all was right with the world for so short a time.
He wants those days again, wants them so badly it hurts, and whenever Rick does something like this, it reminds him of all the things they’d had that are gone.
But it’s a different world now and Daryl knows it. They don't have the safety of the prison, or even a shelter. Just the open road before them, and miles to go before they sleep.
At least he still has this—Rick, here beside him. Judith, Carl, all of them. They’ve lost everything else, but at least he still has this.
“Daryl?” Rick says, softer now. He's layers of dirt upon sweat and covered in days' worth of dust, but Daryl thinks Rick looks beautiful like this, wild and rough, nearly every bit of that goody-two-shoes cop burned out of him long ago. Nearly, Daryl thinks, though it hasn’t burnt out the heart of Rick, the man that protects the people he loves with all his might.
The man who, when Daryl had been shot back at the Greene farm, crumpling like the rag doll he’d been carrying, had screamed no like his heart was breaking, no, over a nothing, a nobody. A nobody he’d looked in the eye only the day before and told You don’t owe us anything, like Daryl was on equal footing, didn’t have to claw and scrape to get back into anyone’s good graces.
The man who’s seen every one of Daryl’s scars, twisted marks of his life upon skin, and still—
“Daryl,” Rick says again, worry slipping into his voice this time. His palm tightens around the back of Daryl’s neck, moving to pull him closer, and in the crook of his other arm, Judith makes a noise of protest at being squished further between them.
“Yeah,” says Daryl, to show that he’s heard, to show that he’s here. That he’s come back from that place in his mind where Rick can’t follow. He closes an arm around Judith, so Rick doesn’t have to bear the burden of her weight alone, as they stand in place, breathing each other’s air and sharing in the pleasure of their closeness.
Rick gives him the softest, sweetest smile, made all the lovelier from the pale sunlight filtering through the clouds and treeline above. And something twists in Daryl’s chest at that, makes it hard to breathe, because some part of him tells him he doesn’t deserve this man, or his family, or picture-perfect moments like these, of kissing with their baby between them, and he’s suddenly afraid of it all being taken from him, now that he cares.
It’d been easier at the start, when they were just nameless faces that he and Merle had set out to rob, but now—
More than fear of dying of hunger or thirst, Daryl is afraid of losing his family. And don’t that just beat all.
Rick must see something in his expression, because he calls out for Carol to take Judith for a moment. Lifts Judith up and hands her over when Carol comes back, even as Judith reaches out chubby fingers for Daryl in the process. Her mouth’s puckered in preparation for a howl when she finds she’s not being handed to Daryl, but then Carol’s cradling her head, weaving her spell of ancient mother’s magic through hushed, whispered nothings and kisses to her soft, wispy hair, and when Judith settles into her arms like a sleepy kitten, they know she’s in good hands.
“Hey,” says Rick. He winds fingers around Daryl’s wrist as he lets the group get a little further ahead of them, but still within calling distance. Gives them a space where they can be alone. His touch is warm against Daryl’s skin, safe, even though Daryl knows they’re never really safe these days.
Daryl eyes the herd of slow-moving Walkers down the road, still doggedly tailing their group. While they’re not a long way off, there’s time for this comfort that Rick’s offering, so he lets himself sink easy into Rick’s touch, needing the reassurance, craving it.
“Hey,” Rick says again, ducking his head in the way his gaze can meet Daryl’s. It’s something Daryl’s always hated as much as he admired, and truth be told, needed, because it meant Rick being on the same level. The same wavelength. “We’ll be here when you get back. We’ll all be here.”
“I know, I’m just—” Daryl manages, before the knot of emotion forms in his throat, and he has to swallow around it, hard. “Just tired of losin’ people.” He watches Rick with his too-scruffy beard, the lines of tension written into his shoulders and face, and his first desperate thought is I can’t lose you.
“Yeah,” says Rick, softly. “Me too.” He presses his palm against Daryl’s cheek, cradling it. Daryl’s struck by the urge to cover Rick’s hand with his own, to nuzzle into his touch, and maybe months ago he wouldn’t have—too sappy, too sentimental, or some such shit—but this is now, and he does.
He gives barely a thought to how ridiculous they look, with a backpack that doubles as a baby carrier pressed between them. Rick’s other arm looped about his waist, moving in close, until their noses are pressed together, warm, nuzzling. Their hips. Their knees. Like they’re creeper vines taking comfort in each other as they arc toward the sun, together.
“Not gonna lose us,” Rick murmurs into his ear. He pauses as he leans away, seeing the look in Daryl’s eyes, and Daryl realizes he must look hunted, fearful somehow, because Rick nods, determined, as if he’s realized something. Leans in, close, to make promises he has no right making. No way of keeping. “Not gonna lose me.”
“Not you,” Daryl says, his voice too hoarse by half. The words are out before he can take them back, pretend they were never said. “Not ever.” His fingers twist tight into the cloth of Rick’s shirt, the soft cotton of it balled into fists. He couldn’t bear to lose Carl or Judith, either. Not Glenn or Maggie, not Carol. Not a single one of them.
But losing Rick? Losing Rick would break him. Send him over an edge he’s not sure he could ever return from.
Rick cups the back of his neck, shifting them until their foreheads are pressed together, providing comfort at each point of contact, from forehead to brow to nose. Offers a reassuring little nuzzle with the tip of his nose. “Not ever.”
It’s a moment more before Daryl realizes Rick’s making little shushing noises, the kind Carol makes when she’s trying to calm Judith’s howling, as he rubs small, soothing circles into Daryl’s back.
“Ain’t gotta shush me, Rick,” Daryl mumbles. “I’m a grown damn man.” But in a way, he’s relieved, because this reassurance has been what he’s needed. This comfort that only Rick can provide.
Rick huffs a laugh at that, and even when he stops his soothing susurrus of shh, shh, shh, he replaces it with the gentle motion of carding fingers through Daryl’s hair. Slides fingers through it, gentle, like he’s stroking the finest silk, even if it’s days-dirty and tangled. Slants his mouth up to kiss Daryl, again and again, each press of lips careful, affectionate, warm, to his cheeks. The corners of his mouth. Like he knows of no other way to assure Daryl they’ll be all right for the time he’s away.
“All right, I get it,” Daryl grunts, fighting the urge to tangle fingers into Rick’s unruly curls, because if he does, he’ll never leave. “Goddamn, Rick, you’ll scare away the game with all your carryin’ on.” There’s a heat blooming in his cheeks, and he knows it, but he can’t will it away, and he won’t.
Rick’s never been good at hiding how he’s feeling from Daryl either, and by the look in Rick’s eyes, soft and warm and adoring, Daryl can tell Rick thinks he looks adorable like this, blushing to his roots. As he predicts, Rick steps in even closer, circling Daryl’s waist with both arms now, for a messier, wetter kiss, one that steals the breath from Daryl’s lungs, leaves him gasping and digging fingers into Rick’s shoulders for support.
“Hey, are you guys all ri—oh,” says Glenn, back-pedalling a little as he stumbles upon them. “Sorry, sorry.” He knows better than anyone what it’s like to be interrupted in the middle of a hella good kiss, and scurries back to Maggie, his head down, eyes averted, like he hasn’t just seen them making out like two horny teenagers.
By now, the group has turned back and wandered in their direction to see if they need help, and while the weak whistles in their direction grate on Daryl’s nerves, he knows they don’t mean anything cruel by it.
It was Michonne first, then Carol, who’d told him the same thing months ago. That what he and Rick had was like what Glenn and Maggie had; was what Judith meant to them. That they were all small beacons of hope in an otherwise gray world. Showing the others there was still something beautiful in this world, despite the horrors that surrounded them now.
He’d wanted to shrug off their presumptions, irritated, and say Mind your own damn business, but that was the Daryl of years past, and he’d only just shrugged and tipped them a quick nod.
At Abraham’s catcall, one that rises above the rest from the sheer, rough rumble of it, Rick only laughs, the sound of it soft and low. And even if his smile doesn’t light his eyes the way it used to, Daryl will take it. Resolves to find a way to bring that light back, whatever it takes.
“I gotta…” Daryl tries, nodding toward the trees. “Before we lose the light.” He’s thinking of miming the use of the crossbow to hunt game, but as always, Rick’s on the same wavelength, and he’s already nodding back, worried at the drift of impending clouds across the sun. The seemingly early set of it, now that they’ve spent most of the day walking.
“I know.” Rick hooks his fingers through the belt loops of Daryl’s pants, and leans in for one last, bruising kiss. Fixes him with a look that says Come back to me. They’re not words Rick would’ve said back at the prison, or even the farm, when he hadn’t as much reason to worry about their safety. Daryl’s safety. But Daryl knows that look now, knows the love that burns bright and fierce in Rick’s eyes when he looks at Daryl like that, the command inherent in just a glance.
Come back to me—safe and whole and alive.
Daryl nods, and before he turns to the woods, he cups Rick’s elbow for a simple squeeze, fingers lingering even as his touch falls away.
I will.
Daryl stays alert, his footsteps light and careful, because he’s not exactly familiar with this terrain, and his motto of woods are woods isn’t exactly applicable when even the past couple stretches of trees have been different. They’re not the tall, Georgia pines he’s used to, but broader, leafier things that rustle unnaturally under his boots, and he finds himself working harder to adapt to this new environment. Expending more energy than he should, to keep quiet and maintain the deadly silence of a hunter.
He’s not a few minutes out into the woods when behind him, a twig snaps, and Daryl whips around, crossbow up. Doesn’t bother snapping Come out, I know you’re there. Just makes sure he’s readied a bolt and waits, steady, silent.
Before long, something crashes through the brush, and Daryl’s not sure if he thinks holy shit, or says it, or swears it with all the gusto of a drunk discovering he’s fresh out of moonshine.
Because he’s seen a lot of things since the world went to hell, but he’s never quite seen this.
(tbc - Chapter 2)
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Date: 2016-01-22 12:43 pm (UTC)From:Anyway ... A cliffhanger?!?!?! Oh, please, don't do that to me. I hate cliffhangers - in season finals as much as in stories. :-) Hope to get the second part of this lovely story soon.
I can so picture them standing there in the middle of that road, looking as though they'd just been pulled out of the gutter as usual LoL (do you remember how CLEAN they looked in season 1?) and forgetting the world around them - the cheering group and the approaching walkers alike. So cute.
It's touching that Daryl, deep down inside, still wonders, if he has a right to be happy, to have someone who loves him in his life, something good happening to him. What kind of life did the poor man have thinking of himself as nothing, nobody? Well, we know - an abusive father and a brother, who told him pretty much the same; that the people he started caring for wouldn't give a damn about someone like him. Makes you wanna give him a big hug. I'm glad Rick is supplying plenty of those now - among other thangs ...er, things. :-)
This has been once more a pleasure to read. Post the second part soon, please!
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Date: 2016-01-27 12:35 am (UTC)From:As for the cliffhanger, it should be resolved in the next chapter, that'll be out this week. So hopefully it won't be too long a wait! I'm glad you were able to picture them standing in the road together (no luxurious shower for days, of course) and forgetting everything around them, because that's what I was going for. Just a quiet little moment between the two of them, regardless of everything else that's going on.
And yes, all the hugs for Daryl, because he deserves all the happiness and good things! Especially now that any naysayers to that are gone. Yes...Rick supplies many hugs now, among other thangs, indeed. INDEED. :d
Thanks for stopping by again!