Hello loves! I am new to the fandom and writing Rickyl, and I miss them so badly in Season 7 so I had to have an outlet. This little fic of mine takes place in the Prison arc in the series, after Season 3's Home.
I fully intended for this to be a one shot, but it got so monstrously long that it may be up to 2 or 3 chapters. Blame my lack of control for this, and missing the Season 3 looks of the boys. I now have this unhealthy obsession with old unshaven dudes who need showers, and I am not ashamed.
I now present to you my creation along with a glitter bomb. *boom
Daryl Dixon paced around the watchtower walkway, his crossbow armed and steady on his side and his senses on full alert for possible threats. Tonight, surprisingly, was peaceful, that despite the apocalypse and the undead taking over, the smell of death all around him, their dystopian world had these rare moments of beauty. The stars scattered above the blue black skies, stars that were previously hidden from angry city lights of the urban world, the only sounds heard are the cacophony of crickets and cicadas along with the moans of more than a few walkers that scattered on the grassy areas, and the night air was cool and crisp, despite the all-too familiar scent of rotten flesh and gunpowder, something that he, strangely, had gotten used to. The moonlight shone over, the fluorescence reflecting the reality before him. This is their world now, and he's lucky to even be alive. Normally he enjoyed nights like this, guarding, taking his mind off on surviving, how to be alive tomorrow and the next days to come.
Unfortunately, the archer is not on his best mood tonight to give a shit about the beauty of his surroundings as he brooded, a whirl of stress and confusing emotions ready to burst from within. It annoyed him so much since he is not usually like this, remembering how he proudly scoffed to the group on how zen he was. That said, the archer hopes that doing watch serves as a deterrent to avoid possibly doing self-harm, anything that may divert his attention from the thing - or rather, the one causing this to him.
He hurriedly finished supper earlier with the group back in C block and declared watch duty for tonight to save conversation. Not giving much attention towards the surprised stares, he grabbed his crossbow, a pack of Morley's, a knife and his poncho and took off immediately for the prison guard tower, all the while ignoring Carol and Glenn's calls to come back. Pretty sure it wasn't that important.
Not that he didn't like the company of his extended family. Before them all, he thought Merle was the only family he had, but somehow, he had learned to adapt and became one of the group's primary fighters and hunter extraordinaire, in the several months that they have been together, from Atlanta, to the Greene farm, and finally in the prison. He would have Merle to thank for his impressive survival skillset, but right now said shitty excuse of an older brother has done nothing but alienate himself from the group by annoying them, pawing for meth or coke through cell blocks, and if not insulting enough, hitting on Michonne after their last messy encounter with the Governor back in Woodbury. The quiet woman may have an eternal poker face of a katana-wielding serial killer of the undead, however it will not surprise him much if he finds his brother with the left hand chopped off this time. Even his patience is wearing thin.
Although, Merle was the last thing on his mind right now. His thoughts right now are set on what caused his stress: a certain sheriff deputy currently straying from the path of sanity. Rick Grimes, pale with a spaced out look on his face, rejected the roasted rabbit that the archer caught for that day, mentioned something about "stuff and thangs", whatever the hell that meant, going off again to god-knows-where doing god-knows-what, missing supper for the nth time already. No one dared argue or question his statement, for fear of getting the Python forced in their mouths and gray matter exploding on the prison floors. So they just left him alone. Again.
Daryl stopped his pace and decided on a spot where he could peripherally see both the prison grounds and the skirting landscape of the forest trees before them outside the metal fences. He finally settled, set the heavy crossbow next to him, and sat down, his arms resting on the railings and his feet dangling on the side. Picking a stick from his Morley's with his mouth, he stared around the area absently without lighting it. Carol will join him later, occupying the next tower opposite his. Glenn and Maggie decided to do patrols on the grounds and inside the cell blocks as well while the others slept. One guard will actually be enough but with the arrival of lil' Asskicker, Michonne, Merle, and a threat in mortality in form of the Governor, they decided to double the shifts as a precaution.
The thought of the Governor let out an annoyed grunt from the archer, finally lighting his cigarette. He sighed before inhaling and puffing out smoke, looking at that small cloud of white until it vanished from plain sight. Lori passing away after giving birth and gunned down by Carl along with the encounter with the prisoners and the alarm going off, T-Dog killed by walkers and almost losing Carol in the process, Maggie and Glenn being captured at Woodbury, with him being forced to play gladiator versus Merle in a ring of corpses, deciding to leave the group to join his brother only to come back to the prison under attack and in complete disarray by the eyepatched bastard. The problems never stopped coming.
For the meantime, he and Hershel reluctantly assumed responsibility for the to give Rick his much needed space and time to think on their next move, since the leader refused to leave. Andrea's visit a while ago to persuade a negotiation did not help either, clearly telling them the Governor's intention to go to war. If they are planning to fight back, the last thing they needed was their leader snapping in the midst of it all.
He fiddled with his lighter, his mind not really into guarding anymore. He kept going back to the moment Carl and Maggie stepped outside toward the hot, corpse filled concrete, both with despaired and tear stricken faces, the older Greene daughter holding an infant with bloodied hands and the younger Grimes with a gun in his hand, Rick stammering and sobbing uncontrollably until he fell to the ground. Afterwards he went haywire and gone off in a killing spree for the next couple of days, snuffing off remaining walkers that managed to invade their living space after the breach, leaving them all to take care of the newborn themselves.
Rick then got worse as time went by. The phone calls in the boiler room including a splayed walker with an unusually large belly from what he heard from Hershel. Rick either rambling randomly or embracing empty air outside the fences as per Glenn. And that time when he went off with Merle, he found out from Carol that the leader kicked out a small group of survivors that came in, screaming like a depraved and possessed lunatic the whole time. He instantly regretted his decision, remembering the leader's glassy blue eyes before going off with his older brother in the forest, leaving the group. Leaving the family. Leaving Rick. The memory of the deputy's face gave him a sour taste in his mouth and a painful knot in his chest.
Daryl heard steps coming up from below, then saw a moving silhouette coming near from the windows of the guard room, causing the archer to shift to his usual defense position, turning around in fluid motion to crouch down, his crossbow armed, aimed and ready to shoot in a matter of seconds.
"At ease pookie," Carol said rather playfully, finally coming out of the shadows. "Just came to check on you."
Daryl eased and set down his crossbow on the outside wall of the guard room in front of him as Carol stepped into full view, a hand on her hip with a proud stance, her gray hair shining like silver under the moonlight. With an assault rifle strapped around her slender form and a butterfly knife tucked on her makeshift belt, the beautiful badass woman before him now a far cry from the frail and battered wife he first met back in the quarry. Even so, she shifts back to that maternal mask, never failing to baby Daryl with that cringy nickname especially when he gets injured like he was her rebellious teenage son, her being the fussy and overbearing mother he never had.
"Thought I could leave you with M4A1 here before I go to my post," she began, removing the rifle from her body and placing it beside the crossbow. "I'll just grab another one in the dumpster along the way. Placed spare bullets in the room, 'kay?"
Daryl gave a small nod, relaxing himself and sat back down. "Thanks."
"And by the way, bought some treats for you." Her free hand had a small portable cooler as she sat down next to him, her back leaning against the railings. She held out the cooler on his lap, waiting.
The archer took it gingerly, shaking it a little, sloshing sounds from within. He opened it and peered inside its contents inside surreptitiously. He then stared at the mystery items, not really sure what to think.
"Popsicles?" he finally said.
Carol nodded. "Michonne found it from an abandoned car while she was out. Figured a group went off already even before she came since the car's already out of gas. Probably must have forgotten to bring it."
Daryl continued to stare at the near empty DIY popsicle tray molder with two pieces left, the bright red color and the multicolored sticks a stark contrast from the dull hue of the apocalyptic world, its sweet scent in what Daryl could deduce as strawberry Kool Aid. "How'd you manage to make it last?"
"Axel managed to get the fridge working," Carol replied, a hint of sadness in her voice, leaning the back of her head against cool metal. Daryl picked up on that, deciding to end it there. Ain't something worth mentioning now.
"Already got one of these?" he asked instead, finally looking at her.
"Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. Michonne gave it to thank us I think, for letting her stay, saying it's the least she could do. Little Judith loved it too. Reminds us all that the little things do matter."
Daryl felt a corner of his mouth twitch into a small smile, imagining lil' Asskicker's mouth and clothes in a red mess, face crumpling due to brain freeze complete with gurgling sounds. "That why you hollered at me after dinner?"
"That's right." Carol was smiling again too, probably imagining the same thing he just did. "Had a little popsicle party, and it was fun. Even got Merle to join in."
He gave out a snort. "Really? Merle?"
"Yes, he did. Managed not to antagonize anyone in the room for the first 10 minutes, that is." Carol scoffed, doing that familiar eye roll.
Daryl shrugged, closing the cooler and placing it beside the crossbow. "Sorry 'bout that."
"Don't be. Michonne though, may be close to disemboweling him if he drawled another That ass one more time."
"Dick." Daryl handed the cigarette to Carol, to which she accepted and inhaled and blew with closed eyes before handing it back to him again. And it went on and on, both alternating white puffs in mutual silence. When the stick was finally finished, Daryl sighed, louder from what he intended, rubbing his temples.
Apparently that caught his friend's attention, a worried look now on her face. "Feelin' stressed pookie? The whole leadership thing?"
"I don't even know how Rick does it." he grumbled.
"He was a cop. Trained to be assertive. Right now though..."
"Almost goin' off to the deep end."
Carol shook her head. "I don't think so. He's just...he's grieving. I couldn't even imagine what he's going through right now. There wasn't even a body found. And the fact Carl had to put her down..."
Daryl shrugged, responding to his friend's shudder beside him. "Kid's handlin' it better than he does. I woulda done the same for Merle, case the same thing happens."
"We all have our ways. Now may not be the time, but Rick needs his space. I know he will get past this. The tics he had while you were gone are not as worse as they were, but he still wants to be alone for the most part."
The mention of the breakdown of Rick Grimes had the pained and confused feeling back on Daryl's chest, stronger than ever, and it was making him uncomfortable. He wanted to change the subject somehow. "How did..." he began. "How were you able to? With Sophia?"
Carol only smiled sadly. "I had to be strong. For all of us. We honor the dead by just being here, alive and surviving. It just…takes a toll to those left behind. That's why I understand Rick. And I know you understand him too. "
Daryl felt a twinge of sadness, the memory of Sophia coming out of the barn, a shell of the little girl she once was, and Rick shooting a bullet through her head. He made a fist with his free hand and leaned his forehead against it, the other hand reaching for a cigarette, and placed it between his lips. Carol then saw the action and lighted the cancer stick for him. Even after the first two drags, her eyes never left him, like she was trying to read him. Daryl peered at Carol from the corner of his eye, and noticed an odd expression on his friend's face.
"What?" Daryl asked, feeling conscious.
"You have changed, pookie." Carol replied softly.
Daryl only managed an expected pfft, but he did not disagree.
Carol placed both of her palms on her jean clad thighs, rubbing them, a sly smile slowly creeping on her features. "That time in the RV, when you gave me that Cherokee Rose and told me that story. I was so touched at the time."
"Right. You were so touched that you were cryin' when I was done."
"I did. That and because I was finally able to hear you say more than 2 phrases in one time."
Daryl snorted, lightly jabbing Carol on her shoulder. His friend lightly chuckled, her hands now clasped together. "I mean it pookie. You try so hard to deny it, but you are a good person. A little rough on the edges, but good, especially when it comes to taking care of everyone. You deserve so much more than you think."
The archer shrugged, ignoring the warm feeling that crept on his chest. "Ain't no need for me to get an award for that. It's the least I can do. For the group."
"I know," Carol nodded. "Rick may not say it to your face, but he appreciates it so much. When you took care of Judith. He could never be more thankful."
Daryl grunted, knowing Carol was only trying to get him to say that he's doing it for Rick, or rather – getting him to say what he really feels towards the latter. Daryl is not stupid, and Carol is not stupid as well. If he had stopped to think about the honest answer, however skewed it may be, he may have been even more disturbed. But he will not say it. He will never say it.
Rick Grimes earned his trust, his devotion, way back from when the officer decided to go back to the city for his stupid brother, despite the insults and the hurled dead squirrels. Rick saw beyond him, trusted him, looked at him as an equal, not as a freak, not as redneck trash as others would say. Becoming his right hand, his hate for the sheriff deputy turned into somewhat of an admiration.
As time passed, said admiration turned into confusion, confusion turned into sleepless nights, and sleepless nights turned into…a different thought process that left him fantasizing about Rick with a hard, throbbing need down under. He was having feelings for Rick Grimes. Feelings that he never thought he had to begin with. And it was just fucking ridiculous. He never thought about love or relationships of the sort back then. He's not even gay, for Christ's sake. Merle would have a conniption if he finds out. That's why, he buries these unknown feelings deep within, deciding he was probably just lonely and this was his body talking. Love is destruction, and something Daryl will not be getting out of if he decides to give in.
Daryl Dixon likes Rick Grimes, and that's it. But he is not in love.
The two friends sat in mutual silence, the archer letting the soothing smoke of his cigarette curl in his lungs. Then Carol had to talk, no holds barred with no regards to dropping the unfinished conversation, the main question coming in and shattering the tranquility of the evening, and what probably will change Daryl's perception in love forever.
"Do you care for Rick? Does he make you happy?"
I am currently cringing and I want to hide so badly. What do you guys think? I am open to suggestions, so please feel free to type away. I don't bite. *wink
Next chapter will be out in a couple of days, if school decides to not be a bitch. Bye until then! :)