Summary: How do you let go of someone that was never yours to begin with?
Warnings: Major character death, requited love.
A/N: This is based in between season 3 and season 4, where they've started a community within the prison, but there isn't an outbreak of the flu yet.
The day had started out bright and warm with a gentle breeze sifting through the humidity. Rick welcomed the braeeze when he stood upright from planting seeds into the soil. The weather was getting to everybody recently, causing them to stay inside where there was shade and cool water showers. It was decided that people most at risk of getting ill from exhaustion or heat stroke should take a few days off to rest, meaning Rick had plenty of things to keep him occupied.
He breathed deep through his nose and smelt the air, thankful that the scent of rotting corpses had long gone from the prison yard and it now flourished with daisies and dandelions. Every time he came out to do his morning shift of farming, he'd take a moment to enjoy the sight and smells. The little things he thought he'd never experience again.
Finishing off his job of watering the plants and clearing up the rotted leaves, Rick headed back to the prison courtyard. He splashed water on his face from a barrell and quietly sighed at the feel of fresh water droplets stroking down his chest and back, soaking his shirt.
"Rick." Carol called from the entrance to their cell block. She hurriedly approached him, making it clear on her face that she needed a favour. Not that he minded; Carol had given the group various ideas on how to make the prison more of a homely place. Without her, they wouldn't have water pumps and they'd be back to boiling water every hour of the day. Rick owed her more than he could repay.
"What's wrong?" Rick asked, slicking his hair back as Carol came near.
"Have you seen Daryl? He said he was going out to hunt and left before I could advise him not to go alone." Carol made an amused hum in her throat, "you know what he's like."
"Yeah, I do." Rick replied, not so amused at the thought of Daryl going out on his own, not after the Governor almost killed him and burned the prison to the ground. "I didn't see him leave, so he's probably stocking up on arrows. I'll look for him."
Carol smiled, "thank you, Rick." She patted his shoulder and paused before walking away, "be careful out there."
He was exhausted and really just wanted to lie down for an hour but Daryl's safety was more important than taking a nap, so Rick nodded in reply and gave her a small smile before heading off to the prison's armoury.
When he got there, he could hear shuffling coming from inside the room. Rick quietly pressed open the door and peered in, watching Daryl fill his bag with arrows and ammunition for his pistol. Daryl never took a gun out with him unless they were going on a run, so maybe he'd heard Carol's warning but ignored it.
Huh, typical.
Rick watched him for a moment, looking at the way his muscles flexed and the way his body moved in all the right ways. The hunter was one of a kind and definitely had Rick questioning his sexuality.
"Carol sent you, huh?" Daryl said without even looking in Rick's direction, his voice knocking Rick out of his trance.
"Yeah. Heard you were going out on your own."
Daryl finally turned to look at Rick as he slung the bag over his shoulder. Rick found himself staring at his shoulder and the way his muscle tensed.
"You looked busy, doin' your gardernin' and sniffin' the flowers." Rick could sense the humour under the words and couldn't help but crack a grin.
"I'm not busy anymore, so I guess that means I'm coming along." Daryl was about to protest and Rick held his hand up, "I trust you, I know you'll be careful, but I can't take any risks. I can't lose anyone else. The Governor is still out there and he's more pissed off than he was when we invaded Woodbury."
Daryl was silent for a moment before nodding, "alright."
Rick grabbed a rifle from the gun rack and picked up a few rounds of ammo, listening to Daryl sigh impatiently. Rick smiled to himself as he counted the rifle rounds in his hands, deciding on taking more than he needed and dropping them into his pocket.
"You done?" Daryl asked from behind him.
"Ready as I'll ever be." Rick replied, "let's go."
On their way out of the prison, Rick caught a glance of Carol's worried expression as she watched them leave. She was worried for all the right reasons; this is the first time they'd been out for a hunt since the Governor attacked, and he wasn't the only threat out there. It was hard to remember that Walkers were dangerous too when it became clear just how dangerous people can be when there aren't any laws to set them straight.
Rick patted Carl on the head just as they left through the hole in the fence, telling him to keep Judith safe.
"I will, dad." Carl said, giving Rick a quick smile and closing up the fence.
With one last glance at the prison, Rick set out after Daryl, jogging to catch up to the other man. They were already shielded by the trees and bushes of the forest and the prison was completely out of sight. All that could be seen was the sky, which was turning dark and grey. The wind had stopped completely, sending the message that rain was soon on its way.
Rick didn't want to get soaked midway through a hunt; he knew that Daryl wasn't remotely bothered about it but the idea of walking around, shivering and wet was not ideal in a world with limited medicine and health care.
"We shouldn't stay too long, looks like it's gonna rain." Rick voiced. He saw Daryl nod but continued to walk on further into the woods.
He understood why Daryl wasn't the talkative type out here. To Daryl, this was a sanctuary; a safe haven. He came out here to get away from the people who were too loud or too touchy-feely. Rick had seen how uncomfortable Daryl got when the old women would grab at his arms or stroke through his hair, offering to give it a trim. At those times, Rick would swoop in and save him, telling them he needed Daryl to give him a hand with something. They'd all tut and whine and Daryl would sigh with relief when Rick pulled him away from the wrinkly hands.
In the prison, Daryl was forced to be part of the family when he was obviously not the family kind of guy. And that's just what Rick loved about him. All the things Daryl did and said were savoured in Rick's mind; when he'd take Judith- Little Ass-kicker off Beth and rock her to sleep when she was restless, letting Beth lie down for a while. When he'd offer to be on watch to let Glenn take a rest even though he himself was obviously exhausted. When he let Rick rant and vent to him about all of the mistakes Rick knew he'd made about the Governor and how much he missed Lori, even though Merle was dead and Daryl was probably still grieving.
Daryl was most definitely the most selfless person Rick had ever met and he'd changed for the better. He'd changed and Rick had fallen in love with him from the moment he promised to find Sophia.
Rick hadn't realized how he'd been staring at the back of Daryl for almost ten minutes as they walked until Daryl turned around and frowned.
"What's wrong?" Rick asked, acting as if he had been focusing on the hunt.
"I said there're walker tracks, should we follow 'em or take a turnin'?" Daryl asked.
"Might as well keep goin'." Rick shrugged, "we can handle 'em."
Daryl nodded and kept walking, following the tracks ahead as Rick walked beside him. He tried to distinguish the tracks himself but all he could see were leaves and dirt.
They walked for a few more minutes until Daryl stopped and held out his hand to halt Rick, then lifted his crossbow and silently crept forward. Rick watched him, all limbs moving with practiced precision and footsteps as hushed as possible.
There was the sound of the crossbow being fired, then a curse under Daryl's breath. Rick stood upright and walked up beside Daryl, seeing the arrow embedded into the tree. "Lil' fucker was fast." Daryl muttered, stepping forward down a small slope and approaching the tree. He yanked the arrow out and put his crossbow to the ground, pulling the string back and preparing the next arrow.
Without warning, Rick saw a walker stumble out of the bush towards Daryl, hissing with outstretched arms. Daryl jerked backwards, dropping his crossbow onto the leaves. Another walker came up behind Rick, it's teeth snapping as it grabbed onto his arm. He cursed loudly, throwing the ugly thing back and sinking his knife into it's head. He turned and was faced with another but he was prepared, grunting when the knife made contact.
Then he heard a yell come from behind him. It wasn't just a yell, there was something behind it, something he'd never heard come from Daryl before. He rapidly spun round, seeing Daryl slam a walker to the ground and stomp on it's head. There was another corpse on the ground behind him. He was out of breath and Rick could see blood on his jacket.
"Are you okay?" Rick asked, hesitantly stepping forward. That sound, that yell, it sounded like Daryl got-
Daryl didn't reply and instead placed his hand on the back of his neck and then brought it in front of his face.
"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. "Fuck!" All of a sudden he kicked the walker on the ground, again and again and again until he looked to have no energy left.
Rick felt his blood run ice cold. All of Daryl's movements set alarm bells off in Rick's head. Silently, he prayed. He prayed to whatever sick, twisted God was up there that Daryl wasn't- that he couldn't be-
"Daryl." Rick said carefully, not letting his emotions falter his words.
"I got bit." Daryl said, loud and clear.
Those three words made Rick feel like he was drowning. The world turned into muffled silence and the raindrops he felt on his face were burning cold. He shook his head and looked back at Daryl, staring at his blood stained hand.
Rick darted forward and saw Daryl flinch back at the sudden movement, as if Rick was going lash out. A strong feeling of guilt crept through Rick and he halted, then steadily walked forward, reaching his hand out to touch Daryl's shoulder. "Let me see."
"Rick, I'm bit." Daryl said, stepping back from Rick's touch.
"Daryl." Rick snapped, his voice thick. He swallowed hard and dropped his hand to his side, then brought it back up to run it through his hair, "are you sure? Did you feel it bite you?"
Daryl nodded. "Son of a bitch came up behind me."
"We're gonna go back to the prison, maybe Hershel can treat it, ma-"
"I can't go back." Daryl said, his voice low. "I ain't turnin' with all those people in there."
The words sank straight into Rick's chest, turning his heart into a burning chunk of coal. "You're not gonna turn." Rick reached his hand out to take Daryl's arm, "come on."
"Didn't you hear me? I can't go back." Daryl raised his voice, "I ain't putting them at risk."
"Well I ain't leavin' you here!" Rick shouted.
"Then don't." Daryl said and gestured to Rick's gun.
Rick shook his head, not even allowing the thought cross his mind. No way. No fucking way was he going to shoot Daryl. "No." He shook his head again and held the rifle tighter in his grasp, "absolutely not. You're coming back to the prison with me whether you like it or not."
He was hoping Daryl would see sense, that he would agree and come back with Rick. He pleaded with his eyes and held his hand out to Daryl, desperate to see the other step forward and just be close to Rick.
Daryl seemed to be thinking hard, his eyes averted to the ground. He was still, avoiding as much movement as possible so Rick knew he was in a lot of pain. The bite must have been on his shoulder because more blood was seeping through Daryl's jacket every second.
When Daryl finally looked at Rick, his eyes were glazed over and it was obvious that the fever had already begun and that Daryl was losing a lot of blood. He finally nodded in agreement after what felt like hours and Rick had never moved so fast. He picked up the bag that Daryl had dropped and slung it over his shoulder. Daryl bent down to pick up his crossbow and hissed in pain; Rick was beside him in a instant, reaching to take the crossbow out of Daryl's hands.
He recoiled away, flashing Rick a dangerous look that had Rick backing away in surprise. "Stop motherin' me; I ain't dead yet."
Rick tried to place a reassuring hand on Daryl's good shoulder but the other man shrugged it off and started walking back towards the prison, leaving Rick with a sinking feeling in his chest.
Daryl had to keep stopping to catch his breath and every time he did, Rick would have to force himself to not to ask if he needed help, because he knew the answer would be another angry look from Daryl. But when Daryl stopped a fifth time and fell against a tree, Rick rushed to his side.
"We're not far now, come on. I'll help you." Rick said, barely over a whisper.
Daryl shook his head, pushing Rick's hands away. "M' fine." He mumbled.
"I know when you're lying." Rick dipped his head so he could look at Daryl's face.
Daryl scoffed and Rick let a smile cross his face. It was a painful smile and it was evident that he didn't feel like joking around but it got Daryl to agree to let him help. Rick took Daryl's crossbow and draped it over his own shoulder before wrapping his arm around Daryl's waist.
After a few more minutes of walking, the prison was finally in sight. Rick waved his arm to grab Carl's attention and watched as his son ran to the fence, opening the hole. His eyes fell on Daryl when Rick let him go through the fence first.
"What happened?" Carl asked, his eyes darting from Daryl to Rick.
"Walkers, that's what happened." Daryl replied, holding his shoulder in an obvious attempt to stop the bleeding.
Carl looked to Rick in question and Rick couldn't pull himself to say it. He glanced at Daryl and then back at his son. "Just close the fence up and get our group in the dining area."
Carl nodded and Rick went back to supporting Daryl as they walked up to the courtyard and through cellblock C. Glenn and Maggie were in the dining area already and they looked up when Rick entered with Daryl practically falling against him.
Glenn shot up, approaching them. "What happened?"
"He's bit." Rick said, the words burning his throat.
"Oh my god." Maggie placed a hand over her mouth, "I'll get my dad." And she hurried off into the cellblock. Glenn took Rick's weapons and the bag, dumping them on the floor and helping Rick hold Daryl's weight as he guided him through to his cell.
Daryl let out grunt of pain when Rick laid him down and Rick murmured a soft apology, kneeling down beside Daryl. He looked over the other man, the way his body was tense in pain. Everything hit Rick in the face; he'd been so focused on getting Daryl back to the prison that he hadn't had time to think. He had tried to ignore the situation, hellbent on hoping Daryl would be okay. But kneeling beside him, watching his chest rise and fall at a rapid pace made Rick want to wrap his arms around Daryl, made him want to pray with all his goddamn might that this was a nightmare and that he'd wake up before Daryl-
Rick let out a sound of frustration and stood up. He placed both hands on his face and felt tears prickling at his eyes. Glenn was there, putting a hand on his shoulder and asking if he was okay.
No, he wasn't fucking okay. Had anybody actually seen Daryl? Does anyone know what this means?
Rick had lost Lori because he wasn't careful. He'd been reckless, he'd let his guard down and assumed everything would work out. But then, Maggie walked out into the sunlight, a crying baby in her arms and nobody, nobody would tell him what happened to Lori.
He felt his throat tighten and the solid rock of hot coal in his chest burned all through his body as he looked down at Daryl. He'd done it again. He wasn't careful and he'd been reckless again. Daryl got bit because Rick was too focused on how much he loved him. Rick was too busy letting his feelings get in the way that he hadn't noticed another walker creeping up behind Daryl.
"This is my fault." Rick thought aloud.
"No, stop it." Glenn said softly.
"You weren't there; you didn't see what happened." Rick snapped, sending an accusatory glare in Glenn's direction.
"Then tell me what happened. Tell me how this is your fault."
Before Rick could reply, Hershel was in the doorway of the cell, Maggie behind him. Instead of saying anything, Rick sent an apologetic look at Glenn before kneeling beside Daryl again, not caring if people could see him grab the other's hand in his own and press it to his lips. He couldn't find the strength to care about anything else apart from the unconscious body on the bed.
"Rick, you know that I can't do anything else apart from slow the bleeding." Hershel spoke softly and quietly.
Rick didn't register the words, just nodded and stared at Daryl's face. He saw his eyes open and he blinked various times before flinching at Hershel's hand reaching down to touch his forehead.
"It's okay, Daryl, it's just Hershel." Rick whispered.
"Fuck." Daryl muttered, batting Hershel's hand away and slowly sitting up. His hand slipped from Rick's and suddenly Rick could feel himself start to panic at the loss of contact.
"You need to rest Daryl, you've got a nasty fever, and I need to check on that bite." Hershel said.
Daryl scoffed, "I'll rest when I'm dead." He sluggishly pulled his jacket off and grimaced at the pain, then Rick stepped in to help him remove his shirt. A string of curses left Daryl's mouth as his shirt was peeled off the wound. Rick caught a glimpse of it and it hit him like a tonne of bricks.
That was the last piece of evidence he needed to fully realize that Daryl was bitten and he was going to die within a few hours. Rick swallowed thickly as he felt his chest ache and tried to avoid Daryl's questioning stare.
"I'll clean it the best I can and bandage it." Hershel uttered, reaching for his crutches. "I'll go and get my first aid kit."
"What's the point?" Daryl muttered. Hershel glanced back at him with sad eyes and then left the cell.
"Just...just let Hershel help." Rick sighed from his kneeling position.
"I didn't even wanna come back here." Daryl snapped and rolled his good shoulder back a few times.
"What, so you wanted me to just leave you out there to get ripped apart?" Rick argued, feeling his grief overcome him once again.
"No, I wan'ed you to put me down." Daryl shot back.
Rick shook his head, "I couldn't. I couldn't do that. Not to you."
"Should've just given me the gun."
"What would I have told the others? You expect me to sit there and tell them I let you shoot yourself?" Rick finally looked at Daryl and their eyes locked. "Why didn't you want to come back here? Carol, Beth, Patrick- they'd all want to say goodbye."
"Maybe it'd be easier to shoot myself than lie here and watch people cry over me." Daryl shouted, his voice wavering. Rick went silent and watched Daryl avoid his eyes. "I chose how I wan'ed to die. Not like this, not waiting to turn. You took that choice away."
Rick looked at the concrete floor, feeling his veins turn to ice. He remembered Andrea arguing with Dale after the CDC over the exact same thing. She wanted to die and Dale wouldn't let her. "I couldn't say goodbye to you out there. I needed to bring you back here, where you belong." He mused. "I'm sorry."
Daryl refused to look at him. Rick didn't want this, not now.
"Dad," Carl uttered from the doorway, glancing at Daryl. "Everybody's waiting."
Rick nodded and gestured for Carl to join the group. Once he was gone, Hershel came back into the cell with his first aid kit under his arm. Rick stood up and softly placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, relieved that it wasn't shrugged off. The thought of leaving Daryl plagued Rick. He didn't want to leave the cell, ever. He wanted to sit beside Daryl until- until it was time.
As he was about to leave the cell, Hershel gave him a slow nod. It should've reassured Rick but nothing could stop his insides from twisting at the thought of losing someone else. Someone like Daryl.
In the dining area, all eyes were on him as soon as he walked through the door. Questioning stares from every direction made him stop and glance around the room. Glenn and Maggie were at a table on the far side of the room, hands held tightly together and Glenn looked eagerly over at Rick.
"What's this about?" Michonne asked, "is it the Governor?"
Rick felt like laughing. He wished it was about the Governor. Wished it was about absolutely anything else. "No. No it's not the Governor."
Michonne frowned, her eyes changing from that hard stare she usually had to soft. She could pick things up from people, Rick knew this. Every time he had a problem, she would automatically know just from him looking at her. Michonne had been the one to discover his feelings for Daryl and the only person he spoke to about it.
Rick snapped out of his thoughts and took a deep breath. "It's Daryl." He began, unsure how he was going to tell everyone that the person he loved was going to die in less than five hours without making it obvious that he loved the shit out of him. "We went out to hunt and I… I was reckless. We were attacked by a couple of walkers and… he got bit. Daryl got bit."
The room was silent for a moment, all eyes boring into Rick. He couldn't meet anyone's gaze, his own eyes staring at the cement floor instead.
"Where is he?" Carol asked, stepping forward. Her eyes were hard but Rick could see the tears threatening to spill over.
"Hershel's with him right now." Rick rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how sore and achy it was.
Carol crossed her arms, as if to comfort herself. "Does he have a fever?"
Rick nodded in reply, unable to meet Carol's gaze. She must have noticed because her hand was soon on his shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Hey, this isn't your fault." She said in a hushed tone.
"It should be me in there. Not him. Not Daryl, he's-" Rick stopped himself, not wanting to break down in front of the whole group. He'd done it once because of Lori, but that was his wife. To everybody else, to Daryl, they're just friends. It wouldn't look right.
"He'd say the same thing if it were you." Carol comforted. "We can get through this."
She wasn't wrong. She probably could; Carol was strong. She'd lost her husband and her daughter and was still giving Rick a shoulder to cry on. Her and Daryl were close but the difference between himself and Carol is that Carol moves on. Rick keeps it. He keeps it close to him and when he's trying to sleep, it all comes back to haunt him. It plagues him and rips him open, making his head and chest throb in despair.
No, he wasn't ready to let Daryl go. He wouldn't accept it.
"Rick?" Hershel called from the doorway leading to the cellblock. Rick's head snapped to Hershel, feeling the room get drowned in silence again. He squeezed Carol's hand and walked over to Hershel. "The fever's worsened. He's in a bad way."
Rick moved without thinking, rushing over to Daryl's cell. He stopped in the doorway, looking over at Daryl sat upright against the wall on his bed. The bandage around his shoulder was already speckled with blood. He was shaking and his skin was deathly pale.
"Carol wants to see you." Rick said quietly, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge.
Daryl shivered and nodded. "Pass me my jacket." He croaked.
Picking up the jacket that was crumpled on the floor and soaked in blood, Rick handed it to Daryl and gave him a questioning glance before seeing the other man pull a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket.
Rick rolled his eyes, "that'll just make you feel worse."
Daryl shrugged and placed the cigarette butt in his mouth, patting his jacket to find the lighter. Rick sighed and took his lighter out of his pocket and sparked it, holding it to the cigarette. He watched Daryl take a long drag before letting his head fall back against the wall and blowing smoke into the dim room. The other man shivered once more but Rick could feel the heat radiating off of his body.
"I'm sorry."
There was a moment of silence before Daryl turned his head to look at Rick. It was the most attention he'd given Rick since he first brought Daryl in there. "What for?" Daryl asked.
Rick couldn't exactly find the words. His head was full of words but nothing would come together for a simple apology. "For… for this. For telling you to follow the tracks. For not… giving you a choice."
A silence followed his words and Rick looked over to Daryl, making sure he was still- making sure he was alright.
Daryl was staring at him, cigarette in his mouth, burning but not being inhaled. When their eyes met, Daryl took the cigarette of his mouth and looked down at the sheets. He wanted to say something, Rick could tell, but Daryl was never the type for words or heart-to-hearts. The fact that he listened was better than enough. Rick wanted to voice that, to take the pressure off but there was a knock on the wall by the door.
Carol stood there, a sad smile on her face as her gaze fell on Daryl. "Hershel said it was okay to come in. Am I interrupting?"
"No, it's fine." Rick stood up from the bed and allowed Carol to sit.
She let out a small sigh when she sat down, looking over Daryl and smiling with that heartbreaking smile again. She'd lost so many people.
"Those things will kill you." Carol gestured to the cigarette and gave Daryl a firm look.
Daryl snorted and took another pull, letting the smallest smile cross his face when Carol leaned towards him and kissed his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face. Rick smiled to himself and left the two to have some privacy.
He seated himself on the stairs leading up to the other cells, letting his head fall into his hands. He shut his eyes for what felt like decades until someone's hand came to rest on his shoulder; when he looked up, he saw Michonne staring down at him.
"I'm not ready to say goodbye." Rick admitted, "I'm far from it. He doesn't even know-" he choked out and he bit his knuckle, stopping the droplets from falling down his face.
"What feels worse, him never knowing or sharing the last few hours together?" Michonne asked, taking a seat next to him.
"There isn't enough time."
"There always is."
"Do you know how many people love Daryl Dixon?" Rick chuckled at the thought of people lining up outside of the cell to say their goodbyes. How Daryl always thought the world was against him in some way.
"I've seen how you look at him. Heard how you talk about him." Michonne shrugged, "not saying it's a competition but you win hands down."
Rick snorted, shaking his head and looking down at the metal step under his boot. "This is all just so messed up."
"It's a messed up world."
And Michonne was right. It was a world where people died every day, more often than before the infection hit. As much as he didn't want to lose Daryl, it was going to happen. No amount of praying and wishing was going to stop it.
It was painful to think about. It hurt every single part of Rick; bellowed into his mind and his head throbbed at the sound.
He rubbed a hand over his face and nodded in agreement. As he looked up, he saw Carol step out of Daryl's cell, wiping tears from her face and holding her head up high; something Rick knew he wouldn't be able to do.
"He's resting." Carol said as he approached Rick and Michonne. "Took me a while but I got him to lie down."
"Thank you." Rick sighed in relief, standing from the stairs. "I'll keep an eye on him."
Carol nodded and began to walk away before pausing and turning back to the two, "I've said goodbye."
Rick placed his hand on Carol's arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry it turned out like this."
"It's not your fault, Rick." Carol reminded, her words were firm, but they failed to stick.
Hours had gone by, same as the people who'd come to tell Daryl how much he meant to them. Sometimes he was awake, sometimes he wasn't. His fever had taken a turn for the worst and a lot of what he said didn't make sense.
Hershel had warned Rick that hallucinations were likely. Daryl had woken and asked if they'd found Merle. It hurt Rick to have to tell Daryl the truth; that Merle was dead, but when he'd finished the sentence, Daryl had passed out again.
Rick rinsed the cloth out in the sink and poured fresh water over it, placing it on Daryl's forehead to help ease the fever. So far, it hadn't worked but it felt right. In a selfish sort of way, it allowed Rick to think he was helping with something instead of sitting on a stool next to the bed and watching every rise and fall of Daryl's chest with anxiety coursing through him.
It had been thirty-six minutes since Daryl woke up. Rick had Daryl's hand in his grasp, the lifeline he needed to remind himself that Daryl wasn't gone yet. There was a pulse and he still had time.
"It's strange, you know." Rick looked down at Daryl's hand and stroked his thumb over the knuckles, "I didn't think I could ever find happiness after Lori. When she died, I was… God, well you saw me. I was a mess." A sad smile crossed over Rick's face, "and there you were. You kept this group together. You looked after Judi- sorry, Little ass-kicker when I was too busy having a breakdown. You saved her."
Rick paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "You saved me." He uttered barely above a whisper, "you saved my ass so many times."
"It's alright." Daryl murmured. He opened his eyes and they were glazed over; he was blinking heavily. "This ain't your fault."
Rick smiled sadly, unsure of how much Daryl had heard. The other man's words hit him right where it hurt.
"How's Lil Ass-kicker?" Daryl asked, his voice hoarse.
"She's fine. Beth brought her by earlier on while you were asleep." Rick flashed a grin at Daryl, who smiled tiredly back.
"She's gonna be a fighter."
"Yeah, she gets that from you."
They shared a moment of humour, the atmosphere lifting slightly. Daryl was himself in those few moments, and above the happiness Rick was feeling, was the anxiety. He remembered Jim, how he was before he was so close to turning. The way his face contorted in pain and amusement when he asked to be left by the roadside. In those last few moments, he was the Jim they all knew.
Daryl flinched when he tried to sit up, letting out a sharp hiss of pain. Rick placed his hands gently on Daryl's shoulders. "I need a smoke." Daryl sighed.
"You need to rest."
"Fine." Daryl closed his eyes, "but if I don't wake up, bury me with one. I'm gonna need it."
Rick tried to hard to keep his emotions in tact as he let out chuckle but the lump in his throat almost choked him. He gripped Daryl's hand with both of his, his eyes filling with tears. When Daryl's eyes didn't open, Rick leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, stroking the hair out of his face. It was the gentlest touch that Rick had ever shared with Daryl; he knew if Daryl was awake, he would probably stomp Rick into the ground for 'being such a pussy.'
Hershel stepped into the cell, giving Rick a wary look. "It's been three hours, Rick."
"I know." Rick snapped. He didn't mean to but right now, he didn't want to be reminded of the truth.
Hershel took a few more steps towards Rick, hands clutching a knife. "I want you to prepare yourself. I know how much he means to you but-"
"You don't know." Rick interjected in a hushed tone. Hershel's words scorched him more than any fire ever could. "you don't. Just leave. Please."
Hershel stood there for what felt like hours before he bowed his head and turned away to leave the cell. There was a clatter on the metal cabinet, then receding footsteps. When he looked over, he saw the knife placed on the cabinet.
He gazed back at Daryl, his own eyelids growing heavy from all the emotions he'd been through. The memories of their hunting trips flooded through his mind, from the first time he decided to walk alongside Daryl through the woods around the farm. Daryl had complained about him being too loud and blamed him when they didn't catch anything, so the next time they went out together, Rick made sure he followed Daryl's instructions.
It was strange to remember that far back and see how far they had come. How quickly Rick had fallen for Daryl.
Rick pressed his lips firmly against Daryl's hand. "I love you. I love you so damn much." He whispered in the secluded silence of the cell.
When they found Sophia, Daryl blamed the walkers, not Rick. When Shane had died, not once did Daryl point the finger at him. When Rick blamed himself for Lori's death, Daryl punched him in the jaw and told him to stop blaming himself. He'd held out a hand and helped Rick up, brushing the dust off his shirt. Even now, when Daryl's in pain and running a fever of 105 degrees, he didn't blame Rick.
Those hands on Rick's shoulders were all he needed for reassurance. Every time Daryl was around, Rick felt weightless. He hoped it was the same way around. Even if Daryl wasn't his, even if Daryl was never going to be his, he hoped in some selfish way that he'd helped him. Rick could feel himself start to drift into a sleep with memories and thoughts on his mind.
Suddenly, Daryl's chest halted.
Rick blinked hard, all forms of tiredness leaving his body as he stood up and leaned forward, listening intently for any sign of life. He heard the last rasp of breath before nothing came out at all.
"No." He whispered, "shit, no, no, no-" he grabbed at Daryl's wrist, feeling for a pulse, for anything but there was nothing. He brought Daryl's hand to his lips, mumbling a concoction of 'god' and 'no' and various pleads. His forehead touched the rough sheets and everything around him crumbled.
Moments passed where he continued to cry into the sheets, gripping Daryl's hand in hope that it would bring the other man back to life. That somehow, miraculously, he would sit up and tell Rick to shut up and stop crying into his bedsheets. He sat up and looked over to the knife on the cabinet but couldn't bring himself to let go of Daryl. Putting that knife into his head would be the end of it. The end of everything that was Daryl.
There would be nothing left.
Rick wouldn't let Daryl turn. He couldn't face that, knowing Daryl wanted Rick to shoot him as soon as he got bitten. Letting him turn into one of those things would just make the guilt worse. But Rick couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to pick up the knife.
Gentle fingers were on his back, stroking in soft circles. He looked up to see Michonne staring down at Daryl, then down at him. Her eyes were kind and understanding but she held the knife in her other hand and she presented it to Rick.
He shook his head, "I can't."
"Do you want me to?" Michonne asked.
Rick looked over Daryl once more before nodding. He gripped the other man's hand as he felt Michonne walk around him and lean over Daryl. Rick shut his eyes, putting his head on the sheets again and listening for the sound he knew was coming.
The sickening crack and sheath of a knife piercing through flesh and bone. It was over, all of it. Michonne's hand found Rick's back again and she spoke in a hushed tone, "we'll get everyone together and bury him. As a family."
Rick couldn't find it in himself to reply, instead he sat there, watching the blood seep through the pillows and sheets. Daryl would be shouting at him, telling him he was stronger than this, that he needed to get his ass up and do what needed to be doing.
When Glenn came in with a white sheet, Rick stood up and knew it was time to step up. He'd be the one to dig the grave and he'd be the one to bury Daryl. He owed it to him.
Hershel had said a few religious words, even though Daryl was hardly a religious man. Rick liked it, though. It was comforting hearing Hershel read from the Holy book, blessing the body that they buried and letting saying goodbye to a loved one feel normal again.
There were tears and loud crying from a few as each of them sprinkled dirt in the grave and over the sheet.
When it was Rick's turn, he stepped forward and picked out a cigarette from his pocket. "He told me to bury him with one. Said he'd need it." He smiled at the memory, hearing a few laughs from around the group. He placed the cigarette in the grave, next to Daryl's wrapped up body.
People soon began to leave when the sky turned orange, the chill in the air getting too much for some. Hershel gave Rick's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving. "He was blessed to have someone like you in his life." Rick felt the tears prickling at his eyes and he quietly thanked Hershel.
He thought he was alone until he heard Carol speak from behind him.
"Thank you," Carol spoke softly, "for bringing him back. He told me about the conversation you had out on the hunt, and I'm glad you brought him back." She looked at the grave. "He said he was angry. But he understood. He understood why."
Rick nodded, staring down at the dirt.
"He never got the chance to thank you, so I'm doing it for him." Carol smiled sadly, resting her hand on Rick's arm for a few seconds. The touch was reassuring and gentle. Rick felt tears edging down his face as he held her hand and let out a breathy laugh. Carol brought his forehead to her level and kissed it, just like she'd done with Daryl. Then she walked away, sniffling through the tears that streaked down her face.
Rick looked up at the clouds and watched how they parted to reveal the pinks and oranges that flooded the sky. He sniffed and took out the pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth and lighting it.
"You were one of a kind, Daryl Dixon. And when this whole thing blows over, I'll let the world know your name."
Soooooooo. This was my first Walking Dead fanfiction, and t'was a sad one indeed. Sorry for the pain I caused, I usually use my writing powers for good rather than evil.