Rick liked working with his hands. It was a part of the allure of being a fisherman; getting to toss the nets into the waters and fish them back out. His favourite part was the silence he got- which he well deserved. After years of working as the Sheriff's deputy, he'd put the life of being a cop on the backburner for a quiet lifestyle. His wife, Lori, had left to move upstate six months before that, taking his son, Carl, with her and leaving Rick to fall deep into a state of depression. He'd been forbidden for seeing his son and found himself lost at work, eyes weeping at every mention of the receptionist's son, Caleb. He'd packed up his stuff, the photograph of his wife and son falling into the trash as he did so, and he'd left, leaving behind his gun and badge to do something calm and quiet.
Fishing had always come naturally to him. His father, Jeff, would take him out as a boy on a small tin boat and help him put squirming worms on the end of his hook, assisting him when the weight of the fish on the end was too large for him. His younger brother had never been interested in exploring the seas, feeling the salt breeze on his skin and they were two of the things that brought Rick to fish in the first place.
His mother was always the one to insist he became a cop, used his determination and leadership for good things. She was good like that and though he enjoyed the feeling of the badge pinned onto his shirt and the weight of the gun tucked into the waistband of his black jeans, he knew his true calling was the sea.
When Lori had left him, he'd felt himself falling into his old introverted habits and his best friend Shane couldn't upkeep any conversation with him anymore, eventually getting assigned a new partner, betraying Rick and the friendship they'd both adored since being in school together. It hurt, in a way he'd never felt before. Losing Lori had been hard enough, losing Carl was enough to make his heart ache but losing Shane- the man he'd looked up to and admired and in return Shane did the same- had drove him over the edge.
Standing on a boat, feeling the ocean beneath his feet, calmed him.
Life was terrible as it was but if he was glad for anything, he was glad he could honour his deceased father by continuing his legacy. Fishing had always been big for his family and they'd have family cook-outs, roasting the fish Rick and his father had caught for dinner. It was one of those little things that made the ex-sheriff's heart ache.
With his feet planted on the deck, he hauled the net up, thankful for the help of Daryl Dixon, whose muscles bulged out of the tight shirt he was wearing. They wouldn't call themselves friends, Rick couldn't even begin describe the feeling he got around the other man, but they had a secret understanding.
They worked day in-and-out, simultaneously matching the other's actions and doing everything in sync, like they were made to do this.
Rick had never asked how Daryl had come to work on the boat where sunburn was around every corner and they felt their fair share of harsh winds on their bare skin when the storms got particularly bad.
He knew Daryl had a brother, one called Merle, who was only half the man his little brother was. Daryl had loyalty whereas Merle only showed up when he needed something from him, whether it be money or drugs.
Rick had grown up with the tales of the Dixons and he'd seen Daryl's scars, just a few times but it was enough to make him feel sick. He'd dealt with childhood abuse victims and even the ones who did the abusing, but nothing made him feel as heartbroken as the scars that layered the man's back.
When Daryl had been thrown off the boat during a storm, Rick had reacted immediately, jumping up quickly to save him. The water-logged man was brought back onto the deck of the boat, coughing up water from his heaving lungs and the ex-sheriff started stripping off his clothes, knowing that hypothermia could set in quickly.
It'd been awkward to say the least, seeing the red-neck naked on the deck of a wet deck, his lips blue and Rick's own face a deepened red.
Later, Daryl would wake up lying on a bed dressed in warm clothes and he'd turn to see the man who'd saved his life and say, 'Ya saved my life.'
It was a simple statement but meant the world to Rick. Daryl knew he had saved him and the laugh that had escaped Rick's throat was a warming sight, knowing he'd been the one to do that.
They'd had an instant connection from that moment, always watching the other's back and trying to ensure they were safe. The deck had been far too slippery, they shouldn't have risked it, especially since Daryl had almost drowned. Even if he hadn't succumbed to the water, he'd have died of hypothermia way before his life could be saved.
It would be months after that when Daryl would save Rick's life.
They'd been awake at the usual half-past four in the morning, jumping into their gear and preparing themselves for the long day ahead. It'd be five when they'd get outside, stars still twinkling in the star as the dark fades to light, giving way to the sun that was pouring across the horizon. The sun wouldn't appear full in the sky still atleast seven, leaving them drenched in darkness for almost two hours.
The next two or three days would hold ten to eighteen hour shifts on the boat, working beside each-other along with atleast eleven other individuals, including an elderly man named Dale and a young woman named Andrea, who always joked that while the sea was Dale's mistress, she was definitely his wife.
The rough seas are the only thing Daryl could call home, after a life of abuse and neglect, so when Rick offered him friendship- a silent devotion and loyalty- he hadn't known how to do it. The man had saved him, risking his own life for the other man's even though they'd barely spoken except for a muttered thanks or a grunt.
Daryl appreciated the ex-sheriff's kindness, thankful for the way in which he was so selfless as to risk himself to drag the freezing man from the six-metre waves. He saved his life by five minutes, any more and he'd be gone from the world, just a hypothermic blue body on the deck of the fishing boat he'd spent the past five and a half months on.
When Rick tried to move a two-hundred pound insulated ice-chest alone, he'd tugged too hard, handle snapping and his feet stumbling backwards, his body slapping the water as he fell, Daryl had tugged off some of his clothes, going to leapt after him before Andrea held him back.
"Wait," she instructed, bony fingers pressing into his hand as they both shook, Daryl more than willing to fall into the water after the man. "Keep an eye on him, I'll get Dale."
Her voice was shaking and Daryl could feel his own body sway, each second one that meant Rick was beneath the waves, struggling for breath under the choppy seas as he swallowed mouthful of icy water.
Daryl prayed he'd catch sight of the dark curly hair rising above the wave but minutes past and there was nothing, just small air bubbles rising to the surface, barely noticeable as darkness descended upon the fisherman.
Dale appeared, casting the red-neck a worried look. "I called the coast-guard, they aren't sure how long it'll take them to get here."
"We have to get him out, now," he grunted, voice firm but panicked. The man had saved his life, he'd save his, even if he had to remove his boots- dead weight- and descend into the water himself. Timing was the key, if Rick could get his boots off, he'd be a hell of a lot safer, not having the heavy things pulling him down. "If he doesn't drown, he has three hours before he dies of hypothermia."
"We need to make a William turn, full one-eighty, get back 'round and try to pull him on-board once we find him, I'll tell Captain Morales, keep an eye out," Andrea demanded, voice almost unheard as the harsh winds drowned out her voice.
They needed to find him, Daryl couldn't lose him, not this man. They'd known each-other for five and a half months, offering kind smiles and muttering small jokes to one-another while the rest of the crew shook their heads. It was an unlikely friendship, the felon's brother and the ex-deputy but they fit together and to hell if the red-neck would let the world take a man as good as Rick Grimes.
"Sudden cold-water immersion can cause cardiac arrest," Dale said, placing a large hand on Daryl's shoulder. "We need to act quickly and spot 'im. Get to the back of the deck and take a look, I'll see what's going on with the coast-guard."
The man left, leaving Daryl alone with his short-sightedness to try and spot his friend, hands shaking as they grasped the back of the boat, eyes turned to slits as they searched the water, looking for something; anything.
"Rick!" he yelled, his throat clamming once he spoke the man's name.
He'd lost his mother as a young child to a fire; her damn smoking put her in the ground way before he was eight. Daryl had abandoned his father once he'd gotten the job on-board the ship, refusing to provide for the abusive alcoholic any longer, the scars on his back serving as a constant reminder of the hardships he'd struggled through as a child. His older brother, Merle, had been put behind bars after drug possession, leaving Daryl to himself and he had no problem leaving his felon brother in prison when he got the job.
He couldn't lose anyone else, especially one of the only friends he'd ever had in his entire life.
With a violent shudder rocking through his body, he ran across the planks of the boat deck, heavy boots squishing against the ground, hands grasping a ladder. They had to find a way to get the curly-haired man out, they had to.
Finding his way back to the stern of the boat, he adjusted the ladder, stepping down it as water sloshed around his ankles, hands grasping at a few fingers poking up from beneath the waves and he let out a scream, trying to pull the man's head above water.
Rick's hands grabbed desperately at Daryl's wrists and they both tugged at each-other, somehow finding their way onto the deck of the boat.
Rick seemed unconscious and the red-neck's hands immediately began to press together against the area of his chest that sat a hand down from his jaw, hesitant lips pressing against Rick's as his hand pinched at the man's nose, hoping to breathe air into his lungs.
He'd learnt CPR once as kid when the school he attended as a young boy deemed it compulsory to learn it.
He couldn't be more grateful when small spluttered coughs heaved through Rick's body, water ejecting itself through his mouth.
"Rick!" he gasped, hands flying his face. "I thought you were-"
But he was cut off, cold, half-frozen, lips pressing against his and it was like being born again, feeling Rick kiss him. He fell into the kiss, slightly confused but grateful.
"Thank you," the man coughed, releasing his hold on the man's shirt, his way of holding Daryl to him. "Y-You saved me."
"I had to," he said, automatically excusing his heroism. He wasn't the hero, no, he had to save Rick, that was all. He was going to do that whether or not it would have cost him his own life. They were friends... Maybe even more.
"I thought I was going to die," the man said, voice quivering, hands pulling Daryl to his cold and wet body. They needed to get Rick warm and into some new clothes but right then, they were content in the other's arms, even the ex-deputy, who was half-frozen to death. "Without telling you h-how I felt."
That thought was the most daunting, knowing Rick had feelings for him. He gave the man another kiss, the scruff on the man's face tickling his. The hair was wet and his lips were like marble stone but he needed to kiss Rick, just feel the comfort of his lips against his, know what it felt like to kiss him.
He hadn't really put much thought into it; kissing Rick. But as he felt the man's cold breath enter his lips, he hoped he never had to go a day without it.
They'd never talked about how they about each other, it was something that went silently unnoticed and when words were exchanged, they were hardly suggestive or flirty, just two men going about their days. Daryl hadn't really thought about it like that until he'd put his lips to the man's to breathe air into his mouth, hands pushing down
"You saved me," Rick said, Daryl's leaning back at their eyes caught together. "You saved me," he repeated, voice sharp and shivering.
Daryl had saved Rick, like Rick had Daryl.
Please let me know what you think. I just randomly decided to write this because I got a strike of inspiration and I've never written Rickyl before so this was a lot of fun.
Rachel.