Author's Note: Hello, all! Welcome to my first piece of fiction, ever - let me know what you think. I might have to raise the story's rating later, but expect frequent updates throughout these upcoming weeks.
I don't own Walking Dead.
.:Hostility:.
Rick was freezing.
He was sitting on a patch of overturned soil with an old hoe at his feet, sweat dripping from his face and hair and causing him to shiver slightly as he scanned the field of the prison. Marveling at their renovations of the field, he drew an old rag from his front pocket and dabbed at his face, sweat falling into his facial hair. There was a chill in the air setting with the sun, and the world was almost peaceful save for the grunting and grumbling of the walkers lined up against the fence.
A sudden whistle drew his head up, eyes scanning for the source just beyond the gate. The small group of walkers, too, turned to leer at the burly hunter emerging from the forest and began shambling towards him.
Rick promptly rose and pocketed his rag, patting some of the moist soil from his backside as he made towards the gate. He watched Daryl easily dispatch three walkers that came too close for comfort as Rick yanked the cable from the chain link fence to open it for the other man, who quickly ducked through. As the hunter straightened himself out, Rick eyed the two quail hanging from his belt and began threading the coil through the chain in the fence.
"Not bad," Rick nodded towards the poultry. "Carol's gonna be happy."
The scowl that Rick received in return was torrid. "It ain't much." His tone was just as biting.
Rick's brow knitted at his companion's icy state. "It ain't canned. S'more than we've had to say in weeks, almost."
Daryl turned his narrow eyes away from him, upper lip curling defensively. "If y'all so impatient, get yer own damn food." Shaking his greasy bangs in front of his eyes, Daryl adjusted his crossbow and started walking towards the prison, back turned to Rick. Rick watched him go for a moment, broad shoulders hunched, the quail bouncing from his belt, and was left bewildered at the man's mood. Shaking his head, he trotted after Daryl's agitated form, glistening gold from the setting sun.
"Hey," he called up to Daryl, who slowed at the summon but didn't turn to face him. These moods of his came and went quickly enough and were less frequent than earlier that year, but Rick hated them just the same. He was determined to find the cause for the other's disquiet.
"You wanna tell me what's goin' on?" Rick tried. As he fell in step with him, Daryl glanced at Rick's searching gaze before turning his head away to spit. Rick rolled his eyes and turned to walk backwards in front of Daryl, forcing him to make eye contact, and tried again.
"Listen, ain't nobody making you go out there everyday," Rick urged, stopping firmly in front of him. Not looking up, Daryl nearly ran into him and raised his squinted eyes to Rick's.
"You think so?" Daryl challenged.
Rick had no idea where this truculent attitude came from, but he remained unwavering. "I do."
Daryl scoffed and tried to walk past Rick, but the older man shifted to keep him from walking away. Their faces were almost touching as each man waited for the other to back down, and Rick was bitterly reminded of power struggles like this from when the two first met and Daryl was more of a wild card. He hated to think that something in the hunter had brought him back to his combative self - he really liked the prudent man Daryl had become.
"Daryl," he whispered, watching his breath ruffle the other man's long, sweaty locks. Daryl was looking down, but making no move to press forward. "I don't know what's got you this worked up, but it's almost Thanksgiving. This is the happiest everyone's been since the farm, and -"
"And what?" said Daryl abruptly, lashing out and eyes blazing. He stuck his chin up defiantly, pushing Rick back slightly. "Don't screw it up for er'ybody? Don't ruin their little party? That what you were gonna say?"
The irate man tried to roughly shoulder past his leader, but Rick stopped him with a heavy hand on his bicep. "No. I was sayin' that I want you happy, too."
In that moment, Daryl had enough decency to appear first shocked, then sheepish. Humble wasn't an emotion that stayed on Daryl's face for long, though, and he quickly looked away and shook out of Rick's now tender grip to step past him, clenching the strap of his crossbow slung over his shoulder.
"Whatever, man. S'all just a shitshow 'n you know it," Daryl huffed as he mounted the steps to the door of the prison two at a time. "There ain't no Thanksgivin' no more. No pumpkin pie. No goddamn casserole. Shit, man, what do we have to be thankful for anyway?"
Daryl looked back at Rick as he said it, a deep sadness in his voice that Rick rarely ever heard, and left without waiting for an answer. He kept the door open for the other man, but was gone by the time Rick entered the prison hallway. Rubbing a soil-dusted hand through his hair, Rick sighed - it had been a long time since Daryl was this moody, and with Thanksgiving less than two weeks away, it was the last thing Rick wanted to deal with.
Rick entered the main room of the prison just as Daryl threw the two quail on the counter Carol was opening beans at. The woman looked up in surprise at him, but quickly smiled and thanked him. She looked as though she made to say more, but Daryl just grunted at her in response and turned away, stopping when he spotted Rick in the doorway. Rick just nodded at him and stepped aside for him to storm through, all eyes on Daryl's retreating form, then Rick's exhausted face.
Sighing, Rick stepped down the few steps into the dining area where Axel, Oscar, Carol, Beth, and Judith all converged, acknowledging each of them but pausing at Carol's inquisitive face. He looked away and placed a hand on his baby's brow, smiling down at her fondly and greeted them all.
"Sup," said Oscar.
"Hey, man," Axel greeted.
Rick nodded at both of them, sitting down next to Judith and Beth. To Beth, he said, "How is she?"
"She's as hungry as always," Beth giggled, bouncing Judith a bit. "Thanks to Daryl, though, she won't be starving any time soon."
"That goes for all of us," Carol noted as she served lukewarm beans to the three others around the table. Axel and Oscar dug in immediately, but Beth was too immersed in making faces and bouncing Judith to be bothered.
"Homes' got a pretty big heart, don't he?" Oscar said as he shoveled in beans. "Wouldn't know it just by lookin' at 'im."
Axel agreed, bits of beans decorating his moustache. "You'da thought he belonged in here with Thomas at first, but he ain't so bad, not really."
"You say that 'til you get on his bad side," Rick smirked, thinking back to his earlier dispute with the man in question.
Oscar swallowed his mouthful. "Yeah, man, I'd hate to be on the other side of that bow again. He's like a damn Robin Hood with that thing."
Carol puffed as she sat down next to Axel, a steaming mug warming her hands. "Pffft, I think Robin Hood showered a little more than Daryl does. If anything, he's more like Little John in that sense."
"Does that make Rick Robin Hood, then?" Beth chirped up, laughter in her words.
Rick blanched. "Don't let Daryl hear you say that. 'Sides, I'd hardly call us his band of Merry Men."
Carol snorted at that and Beth was giggling again. Axel, however, was gawking as he put down his spoon and cup of beans. "Y'all got them book smarts."
They conversed lightly as they finished their scant meals and eventually Axel and Oscar departed. Beth was cradling a now sleeping Judith, which Rick watched with a melting heart. He hardly noticed as Carol grabbed the dirty dishes around the table and stood up, only looking to her when she cleared her throat.
"Will you, uh, come help me with something, Rick?"
Rick nodded, hearing that something was up by the sound of her voice, and departed Judith with a scruffy kiss on her head. Beth huffed as Judith stirred from his facial hair and scolded Rick teasingly.
"What's up?" Rick asked Carol when they were out of listening distance from Beth.
"Did something happen out there?" Carol asked, worry etching her mousey face.
Rick looked down, figuring that this is what had been bothering her, and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He came back all sore as hell over something and just stormed away. Can't say he was acting right before he went off, neither."
Carol sighed, her hands wringing aimlessly at a dishrag, twisting it into mindless shapes of concern. "Yeah, he hasn't been acting like himself for a few days now. Storming about the place, slamming cell doors. He won't talk to me about a darn thing lately, and I think he's starting to worry people."
"Oh yeah? Who?"
"You."
Rick winced and ran his hands down his face heavily. "Maybe. He just, he got in my face, just like he used to. He's agitated. I've been giving him space, but that just seems to piss him off more."
Carol smiled softly, face colored with sympathy, and reached out her hand to offer Rick the dishrag she had been fidgeting with. "I think we've all been there before with Daryl. But I'm worried about him, too, Rick. It's not like him to leave every day to hunt, not anymore anyway. Can you try talking to him again?"
"Me? He ain't even around long enough for me to try."
"You're the only one he'll listen to," Carol reasoned, tone gentle and teasing. "Believe me, it almost makes me jealous sometimes."
She grinned and swatted at him playfully as he wiped the dirt from his hands with the rag. Rick smiled back, but his thoughts were elsewhere - how to get through to his walled off companion. He thought back to their conversation earlier - well, confrontation, really, he corrected himself - and any clues Daryl had accidentally let slip.
Daryl was always guarded; he hardly spoke and when he did, it always felt very measured and careful. The man was a damn mystery to most of their group, and very rarely let his true emotions or intentions show through. As a leader, Rick abhorred this aspect of the hunter, hated having to spend so much time cracking the code that was Daryl. However, the cop in Rick loved the challenge, the chase, that created his friend's psyche. It was the hardest puzzle of a man Rick had ever had the pleasure of dealing with, yet the few times Rick managed to chip away the man's exterior and find his true self underneath were of the most rewarding moments of Rick's immediate life.
Hell, maybe even his whole life, not just after the world went to shit.
As he relived their previous interaction, Rick started to methodically piece together the Daryl enigma and created the very premise of a theory. What's more, he started to think of a way to broach this sensitive topic with a man who seemed like he'd rather wrestle with walkers than discuss his feelings.
Rick looked up at Carol, who was still waiting for his answer with pleading eyes. At the very least, Rick knew he couldn't let down this sweet woman who could never catch a break in her life. The least she deserved was a happy Thanksgiving.
Exhaling he said, "Wish me luck, then," before heading off towards the A Block cells.
Rick mounted the stairs to the upper level cells loudly enough so that any brooding hunter moping in his solitude would hear him coming. The last thing Rick wanted was to sneak up on Daryl, not that he wholly believed he could, or have the man think he was lurking around the catwalk for some reason or another. The mood Daryl was in left Rick cautious on how to approach him.
Reaching the end of the cell block, with so much space between this cell and any other occupied cell, Rick rapped his knuckle against the cold steel bars of Daryl's room. The man himself was sprawled out on the bottom bunk of the tiny inmate cot, one arm dangling to the ground and the other draped across his eyes. At Rick's knocking, he peaked up past his forearm and scowled when he saw who it was. Like it would have been anyone else daring to confront him.
"Howdy, neighbor," Rick tried lightly, stepping in.
"I ain't got no damn sugar if that's what yer wantin'," Daryl growled back, covering his face again. Rick tried to hide his smile; Daryl's tone might have been unapproachable, but him playing along was reason enough for Rick not to bolt.
"Not even for me?" he teased gently.
Daryl scoffed, lips twitching slightly upwards. "'Specially not fer you."
"You pain me," Rick said sarcastically, clutching his heart and walking over to the side of the cot. He was close enough to hear Daryl mutter "good" snidely under his breath, and reached up to lean his forearms against the top bunk, careening slightly over Daryl's prone figure. Daryl, apparently able to feel how close the other man had gotten, shot up and on to his elbows, coiled tight and peering up at Rick suspiciously with his glacial eyes.
Rick wondered at the reaction, but wasn't exactly surprised by it. Daryl hated anyone being in his personal space, but that was precisely Rick's goal at the moment - get the man uncomfortable enough that he slips up. It didn't exactly make him feel honest or upright, but it was an effective technique in his past life at getting perpetrators to negligently spill details without realizing it. Rick hesitated upon this mentality - was he really treating Daryl as some menial criminal?
Sighing, Rick straightened so he wasn't looming over the man anymore. There was no reason for his friend, best friend even, to find him overtly threatening. His drive to unravel this man to his core was in no way worth further alienating him. The poor guy seemed to feel estranged from the day he and Rick met.
Daryl was clearly on edge still, even without Rick hovering over him. "Something wrong, Officer?" he snapped.
"Just wondering what's going on s'all," Rick admitted honestly, feeling a bit put out that his friend was acting so much like his past self. Daryl snorted. "You're puttin' walls up again, Daryl. Thought we were past all this."
"Ain't puttin' up nothin'," he muttered, fidgeting around until his back was propped against the wall. He picked at a hole in his tattered jeans idly, staring at nothing.
"Doesn't seem like nothin'." Rick took that moment to crouch down so that his face was level with Daryl's, ducking his head to try and meet the other man's gaze. "You know we appreciate everything you do for us, right?"
Still picking at loose threads in his frayed jeans, Daryl didn't respond and simply clenched and unclenched his jaw. He almost looked like a child getting scolded for throwing a tantrum, Rick mused, watching Daryl work his jaw muscles testily. "Is that what this is? You think we aren't grateful?" Rick ventured, recalling how Daryl argued that they had nothing to be grateful for. "Heck, Daryl, we wouldn't have survived last winter without you."
If Rick had learned anything of this man in their past year's worth of company, it was that Daryl could be incredibly emotional and sensitive despite his brash exterior. It wasn't something most of their group got to see, so Rick tried to always be mindful of it when dealing with him. He was trying in this moment to tread lightly so he didn't ride roughshod and trample Daryl's feelings, so Rick was surprised when Daryl shook his head jerkily.
"S' not that," Daryl was looking away now, chewing on his bottom lip.
Rick's eyebrows rose. "You wanna tell me what it is, then?"
Daryl's cold blue eyes darted to Rick's face, lip curled back in a sneer. "Thought you had to read me my rights before questioning me, officer."
Letting out an exacerbated sign, Rick dropped his forehead against the stale mattress of the cot and closed his eyes. "Don't keep doin' this, Daryl. Pushing everyone out. I just… I want to help you. We all do; Carol, Hershel, Carl - "
"You really wanna help?"
Looking up from the mattress, Rick saw a strange look on Daryl's face. It seemed so misplaced in the hunter's usually stoic, self-assured eyes that Rick had trouble even grasping that Daryl could possibly feel so… unsure. A guarded vulnerability had softened Daryl's usually sharp and confident features and it made Rick's heart clench curiously. He didn't like seeing this man so timorous, like he was expecting Rick to just laugh in his face for considering his help. It was all Rick could do to nod his head slowly, hoping to erase some of this new uncertainty brewing in Daryl's mind.
"Yeah, Daryl. I really do."
Daryl's face became reserved and calculating again, watching Rick. "I'm going on a hunt again in two days," Daryl spoke, words slow and measured. Silence followed after, like he assumed Rick knew where he was going with it and had left it at that.
"Okay…?" Rick prompted, not knowing how going on yet another hunt would help Daryl. The man fled to the forest numerous times a week when he wasn't planning runs into town.
"Come with me."
Rick couldn't help his brows knitting in surprise at the offer. The two men had gone on hunts together only a small handful of times, and Rick couldn't fathom how his hunting skills could help Daryl. The man was a damn David Boone compared to him.
"'Less you think tending to some garden all day sounds better," Daryl smirked. "Not like you don't do that shit e'eryday anyway."
Smiling, Rick shrugged half-heartedly. "Reckon I could let Carl take over for a few hours."
"Might be more 'n a few hours."
Unable to tell if the other man was joking or not, Rick clasped Daryl's forearm and stood up, wincing when his back cracked. "So long as it gets you outta this funk."
"Not gonna be any help out there if you keep popping like that, old man," Daryl finally cracked a half-smile, eyes squinted humorously. Rick glared back but was satisfied by Daryl finally acting like himself enough to make his leave.
Rolling his shoulders, Rick turned towards the cell door. "I'll make sure to stretch before then, punk."
Rick was practically out the cell door, feeling the matter finally settled, when Daryl's voice stopped him in the hallway. "We're leaving at sunrise." It was an unspoken rule, practically common sense amongst the group that Daryl left at sunrise for each hunt, but the uncertainty in his voice had returned and caused Rick to look back at him. The hunter had scooted to sit on the edge of the mattress and was watching Rick, face plagued with that strange and foreign softness.
Gazing into the other man's face, Rick felt his heart clenching almost painfully again and nodded in assent before leaving the cell, running away from that haunting look. Running away from the damn near crushing sensation he felt in his heartstrings at Daryl's soft and tormented words.
Come with me.