Warning(s): Daryl is sort dark in this oneshot. I'm telling you now if you don't like asshole Daryl turn back now. I'm not putting up with anyone complaining if they don't read the warnings first.
So it had finally come to this. Years of fighting off the dead and losing so many people and Daryl was about to lose one more. Merle, Beth, Glenn and so many more people dead and Rick was ready to throw it all away for the sake of a killer. What was he thinking, putting him in charge of the Sanctuary? Daryl would gladly have locked them all inside and set the structure ablaze.
Maggie had the right idea. Kill Negan while Rick was away. Make sure there were no distractions. But Rick had found out and had tried desperately to reach out to Alexandria, to stop Maggie. Daryl wasn't going to allow it. Not this time.
'No exceptions.'
He had offered Rick a ride back to Alexandria. Rick had accepted, surprised by Daryl's sudden urge to help, but desperate to stop Maggie before she reached Negan. He hadn't even considered that Daryl would plan anything else. they had rode for several minutes before Daryl had taken a turn down a path leading away from the community, assuring Rick that it was a short cut that the bikes could make with ease. It had lasted for a couple minutes until Rick recognized part of the trail and realized what Daryl was doing.
From there it had escalated. Daryl had pulled over and Rick had gotten off, preparing to go on foot. Neither had been good at leaving things alone and it continued on. Daryl shoved the bike down and Rick took a step towards him, shoulders squared up in an attempt to make himself appear larger. Daryl expected him to swing. Expected a fight, but Rick as usual, had disappointed him.
"I don't have time for this." Rick had muttered, stepping away from Daryl, casting him a disgusted look. As if he had any right to be the disgusted party. As if he hadn't hidden away a beast and continued to feed and care for him.
Rick was turning, leaving him. Leaving him for Negan. Red haze filled Daryl's vision. He lunged forward, hand shooting out to grab Rick by the bicep and yank him back. Rick stumbled, turning towards Daryl and wrenching his arm free, jaw clenching. It was reminiscent of their fight last time, when their egos and rage had clashed with violence. That violence had not wandered far. Rick stepped towards him, head tilting and narrowing his eyes.
"You know...all these Saviors goin' missing. What the hell is goin' on? Arat was found with a bullet in her head. No one seems to want to talk, so why don't you tell me?"
"Ya wanna know? Fine. She got what was comin' to her. She confessed and we let 'em do what was needed." He wouldn't give names. Rick seemed to catch on to this and he shook his head, throat bobbing.
"You let them kill her..." Rick stared.
"She killed a kid. Made his sister beg. She deserved to die. If someone put down Carl or lil' ass kicker, I woulda done the same." Daryl replied defensively. There was indecision in Rick's eyes.
"Daryl, you're my brother." Rick's eyes were darting between his, searching for something long gone. "I don't want this to come between us. Not now. We need to talk. All of us." Rick's voice was a force calm, but Daryl knew him well enough to catch that slight waver, showing that he wasn't in control as he thought he was. The time for talking was over.
"Brother?" Daryl's voice came out a near rasp. "You forget 'bout Shane? Y'all were brothers 'till you killed 'im." He studied Rick, taking a step back, hands limp at his side. "Guess that sorta thing don't matter much to ya." Daryl spit out, bitterly eyes narrowed as they watched Rick's every movement. Rick looked torn between throwing a punch at him or flinching away. Instead he set his jaw and turned again, ready to walk back to Alexandria on foot.
Daryl had made a mistake last time with Rick. Last time, he had let Rick walk away, which led to Negan being spared. Not this time. This time, Rick was gonna stay and he was gonna listen. A new hierarchy was taking place and Rick was going to accept it. He lunged forward again. They had always been evenly matched, but Daryl had the advantage. Rick still wasn't taking him seriously. Rick was still naive in that sense. Like the Rick Grimes from that night on the farm with Daryl hd not wandered far, despite appearances.
He was going to learn.
They were in the dirt. Rick was struggling, unable to buck Daryl off his hips. Daryl's hands were scrabbling to grasp at Rick's wrist, stopping the punch Rick had attempted to throw and delivering one of his own. Once. Twice. Three times. There was blood on Daryl's knuckle, the skin split and oozing crimson.
'What is your name?'
Rick had done this. Rick had caused this. He had led them down this path. He had sent Carol away, he had sent Daryl to that dark place where Daryl had never wanted to set foot in again. He had let that animal live, like some monster in the basement. He had seen the way the beast looked at Rick. Like he wanted him. Wanted to consume him. Had Rick been messing around with Negan behind their backs? Was that why he hadn't killed him?
'Daryl.'
He remembered the bat cracking against Glenn's skull, remembered Maggie's broken wails and labored breath. The smell of blood had been overwhelming. There had been so much of it...
'I'll find you...'
Daryl's hands found their way around Rick's throat and he began to squeeze.
'Let people see it and maybe everyone moves past what's happened to what could happen and maybe, just maybe, it'd be one of the best decisions you ever made ... like not killing a guy who left your brother on a rooftop to die.'
"Shoulda' killed ya back then," Daryl's voice was shaking. "Ya ain't my brother. My brother's dead." His thumbs dug into the soft flesh at the base of Rick's throat. Rick struggled, hands grasping at Daryl's wrists in an attempt to free himself.
"Ya did this Rick. Ya ain't letting' Negan live for Carl. You're lettin' 'im live 'cause ya always gotta be in control. Ricktatorship never really went away. It ain't gonna be like that no more."
'The choices seem pretty obvious.'
Negan's voice continued to whisper in his ear, mocking him. It nearly drowned out he sound of Rick's choking and gasping for air, Daryl squeezed tighter, listening as a high wheezing noise escaped the man' throat.
"Ya don't know what it was like. I was his dog. Ya got no idea what he was really like." Daryl could smell it still. Every time he walked into the Sanctuary, everytime he met the former Savior's eyes, he knew what they knew. He had been their dog.
'You get three choices. One. You wind up on the spike, and you work for me as a dead man. Two. You get out of your cell, you work for points, but you're gonna wish you were dead. Or three. You work for me...'
"Ys ain't stoppin' her this time, Rick. She gonna take care of your mistakes." Daryl murmured, steadying himself on top of Rick. Rick's grasp on Daryl's hands wavered, his bright eyes blinking furiously, tinged with red.
'The choices seem pretty obvious.'
"Ya got choices to make. Ya let her do what she gotta do. Ya try to fight me n' get hurt or ya leave. Ya know what ya gotta do, Rick. There ain't any other options. This is it." Daryl's voice trailed off, lips pulling back into a snarl.
'You should know, there is no door number four. This is it.'
"It's the only way."
'This is the only way.'
Rick's knee suddenly shot up and into Daryl's gut, loosening the older man's grip on Rick's throat. It was all Rick needed to pull his leg back before solidly kicking Daryl in the stomach, sending him onto the ground with a pained grunt. Rick scrambled back, hand fumbling for his gun. He was coughing hoarsely, unable to get a solid grip on his weapon. Daryl remained sitting, stomach aching from the hit. He placed a shaking hand against it, eyeing Rick who struggled to his feet, breath hoarse and pained, lifting the gun as if anticipating another attack. The other man shook his head, sitting casually with his legs spread and arms resting on his knees.
"It's too late, Rick." Daryl muttered, watching him. "She probably already got to 'im."
"You...you always were...a miserable bastard." Rick's voice sounded wrecked, barely above a whisper and painful to hear. He lowered the gun, arm heavy at his side. There was a dark ring already starting around the lining of his lip was split and a bruise was blossoming just under his eye. Guilt welled in Daryl's chest at the sight of it, but he offered on apology. Rick needed to learn and it it took beating him down to do so, so be it.
"W...what's it...what's it gonna take, Daryl?" Rick asked, bloodshot eyes seeming to stare through him. "More death? When's it gonna be enough?" He stepped away from Daryl, nearly falling back onto the dirt, shoulders slumped and head tilted as if trying to alleviate any pain. He stared down at Daryl who spit at his feet.
"When Negan's in the dirt. I see how he looked at ya. Every time we went to ya. He never shut about about ya. Makes me wonder if ya started somethin' with him that ya didn't wanna finish." Rick stared at him like he had been punched in the gut and Daryl laughed humorlessly. "Can only 'magine what he'd have done to ya if he had won. Probably have ya on his bed with ya hands and feet cut off. But ya wanted to show 'im mercy..."
"It's not like that Daryl." Rick's voice sounded like it was dragged through glass. Daryl hoped it hurt.
"You'll see. It ain't your world no more." Daryl struggled to his feet, never taking his eyes off of Rick as he back towards the motorcycle. Rick made no move towards him, watching him with that pallid lost expression he wore often. Daryl pulled the bike up, slinging his leg over it and starting the engine. It roared to life and he gripped at the handles with his bloody knuckles. He tore off down the street, blowing dirt and dust in his wake, as he left Rick behind, staring after him.
It was time to end this.
Rick waited about ten seconds before coming back to himself. He took his radio from his hip, bringing it to his lips. "Michonne. If you're near...if you...if you're near Negan. Stay there. Maggie's comin' Daryl's on his way, don't let him down there. I'll try to be there as fast as I can." He began to move, feeling as if he had aged the span of twenty years in ten minutes.
After a moment the radio went off. "Rick, I'm with Negan right now. What happened? You don't sound good." Michonne sounded concerned and he could hear Negan's warbled voice in the background. Rick kept walking, turning his face to the side to cough before pressing the button to reply.
"Disa...greement with...with Daryl." He replied, struggling to get the words past his throat. He swore he could hear Michonne's scowl in response.
"You alone?" Michonne's voice dropped and Rick peered around his surroundings, seeing only trees. No walkers were nearby, small miracles. His feet felt unsteady under him, much like when he had woken up in that hospital in this new terrible world.
"Yeah, he's heading' your way on the...bike." There was a long moment of silence and Rick kept walking. The radio crackled again.
"I'm radioing Tara. If you're near the main road, head there and she'll find you and grab you." Rick thanked her before moving back towards the main road, rubbing absently at his neck, fighting down a wave of nausea. He stumbled forward, hand darting out to catch himself before he fell on his face. He dug his fingers into the dead leaves, dirt gathering under his nails. The radio came to life once more, Michonne's voice calling out to him. "I'll see you soon, Rick." It was not a question. He pressed the button.
"Yeah...I'll be there. Wait for me." He approached the main road, legs shaking and he slowly sank onto the pavement, setting the radio down and closing his eyes, face turned up towards the bit of sunlight filtering through the leaves. For a moment he enjoyed the silence. Sitting still helped alleviate the pain in his neck. Last time fingers had been wrapped around his throat like that, it had been an enemy. Now, he wasn't so sure. The leaves rustled and the radio remained silent. He knew Michonne. He knew she would do what she needed to. In the distance, he heard the rumbling of an approaching truck. He peered down the road, wiping absently at his bloody lip which had grown tacky. Tara's voice came over the radio, greeting him in that friendly, worried manner of hers. Rick pressed his fingertips against the bruised flesh and for the first time in a long time, he prayed.