AN: Normally I wait for the end of chapter to do an author note but I thought I would just take a second to do some disclaimers and set some boundaries for the story so everyone knows what they are getting. I am not a Caryl shipper, in fact I was emphatically opposed to it until season three and now I'm open to persuading – but not quite there yet. I started writing this story before the return of season three so I've got some points where I deviate and will be trying to weave any major necessary factors into my story. I know 99.9 percent of women who are fans love Daryl and so I imagine people are quite picky about the OC's we see him with (cos we all secretly want it to be us, you know it's true). I've resisted writing my own OC character for that reason but this story just kept floating around in my head. I'm going to try and keep him in character and just ask that you keep an open mind. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Mindless, rude and cruel flames will be ignored and, if I'm honest, probably deleted. There are some racism themes in this story as it is reflective of some issues raised in TWD and it in NO way reflects my opinions.
Present day, Georgia
In that minute everything slowed. Rick's vision sharpened and the noises of the world were drowned out by a detached pounding in his head.
There was a herd of walkers between his group and the prison. The Governor and his men were at their back. Rick pushed that familiar rush of despair back to the pit of his stomach where it belonged.
They had been holding the prison against the dead and through skirmishes. Necessity had driven them out and Rick had that unsettling sense that it was all his fault. Judith needed food and Rick felt unconscionable letting anyone risk themselves. He had volunteers regardless. Michonne held a basket filled with baby formula, her face was blank but her eyes reflected the grim situation.
Daryl's nervous energy kept him shifting from foot to foot, his face as determined at the others. "Fuck," he drawled softly. Him and Merle had gone their separate ways. In a moment of clarity Daryl had walked away from his brother and back to his family. The guilt gnawed at him and he could still see Merle's face as he had turned his back on the person he had been.
Rick didn't need to explain to his two warriors the direness of the situation. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead, stopping the sweat from stinging his eyes.
"We could go round?" Risk suggested without preamble.
Daryl flicked his eyes behind him. "Ain't got time."
Michonne didn't even look behind. She kept her eyes forward and said, "He's right."
Risk rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked up at the sky hoping for answers. He took thirty seconds to fortify himself, thirty seconds he couldn't really spare.
He knew what he had to do. He turned his attention to his back up. Daryl Dixon, flawless with his crossbow but wild like he got raised by wolves, and Michonne, deadly with her katana and her intense stare that seemed to border on telepathic. He couldn't imagine two more different people to have behind him but he also couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have standing there.
The pair read his intentions plain on his face.
Daryl groaned, "Aw shit." Michonne's only reaction was a tighter grip on the katana.
"We move fast and get t'the safety of the prison." There was nothing more for Rick to say. It was likely this was a suicide mission. Rick said a silent prayer for Carl though he wasn't sure there was anyone listening up there anymore.
The three of them ran low, hoping the walkers would take a while to notice them. They were spaced out and not paying the prison much mind yet. Rick ran with his hand on the hilt of his knife. He would save his gun until he absolutely had to; he hoped to draw as little attention as possible.
The first walker, a decayed woman, spotted Rick and lurched towards him, teeth gnashing in anticipation. There was a whistle past his ear and an arrow burst into her head like a rotten melon.
Rick was glad that Daryl was an expert shot. Daryl may not be the hot head he first met but he still made risky decisions.
Rick paused to drive a knife through the skull of another walker. Daryl snatched the arrow out of the woman's head as he passed.
Michonne cleaved one walker clear in half before driving the sword hard between its eyes.
Rick took a moment to look around and cursed. The walkers were closing in, doubling back at the promise of a fresh meal. Rick, Michonne and Daryl ended up back to back. Daryl had slung his crossbow over his back, leaving his hands free to use a blade.
They were losing ground; the group of walkers were thick around them. Rick's heart stopped beating. This was how it was going to end. He was going to leave Carl an orphan.
Daryl was swearing behind him, matching every curse word to a swing of his knife. Michonne was still efficiently disposing of the walkers but their numbers were going to overwhelm them eventually.
Rick could see the end of his fight and after Lori had died he expected to almost feel relieved. He felt the exact opposite. He felt frantic to get back to Carl, even to Judith who he had been avoiding until now. He felt an obligation to get these two people behind him back to the prison. He felt himself failing.
Just as Rick felt his last flare of hope fading in the hopelessness of the situation he heard the blare of a siren from the hill on the right. The walkers not immediately within chewing distances raised their heads towards the sound like jackals scenting the air. The dead on the edge of the pack made towards the sound, dragging their twisted feet faster than usual towards the sound.
The press of the dead lessened and they had room to breathe. They took advantage of the space to fight back, to clear an area around them, to pause long enough to take stock of the situation. Rick turned to look in the direction of the sound, expecting to see the Governor and the cavalry bearing down on them.
Rick initially thought it was another hallucination, five black figures striding in formation toward the herd of oncoming walkers. God knows he'd seen enough things that weren't there.
The illusion was shattered when the first three of the group raised bows bigger and more powerful than Daryl's and let loose a volley into the dead. To Rick it felt like they loosed a hundred arrows but in reality it was closer to three apiece before the dead were too close.
In almost seamless unison the two behind stepped forward. They both drew swords almost identical to Michonne's and started carving a path through the walkers. The way they moved it was like a dance, each movement complimenting each other. Rick had never seen such a well organised attack executed on the walkers.
A harsh grunt redirected Rick's attention. A walker had slipped its grasping fingers around Daryl's throat. Daryl just managed to slam his knife up through the walkers chin into its brain. Rick realised that Michonne and Daryl had been keeping the walkers away from him while he stared.
The exhaustion showed on their faces and Rick wasn't sure they had any awareness of the situation beyond their dogged fight for survival.
Rick threw himself back into the moment, taking up his share of the slaughter. The black figures would have to wait for now.
Daryl had gore splattered up to his elbows as he annihilated his groaning opponents. His expression as focused as his temper.
The noticeable lessening of the herd gave Michonne new energy. Her sword cut through them with renewed speed. Her face was a stoic mask.
A walker grabbed Rick's shoulders abruptly, jerking him back. The teeth would have sunk into the soft skin of his neck if it wasn't for an arrow for the second time in half an hour. This one wasn't Daryl's though. The black figures were now so close that Rick could tell they were wearing protective clothing, it might have been Kevlar – it was too hard to tell. They wore black helmets that concealed their faces. Walkers reached out for the figures but they were batted away almost effortlessly. They still kept a tight formation.
One walker tried to seize one of the figures, her broken rotten fingers skating over whatever they were wearing. The figure slammed their head forward in a vicious head butt that left a smear of blood on the visor. The walker staggered and was disposed by a swift stab in the temple.
The figure at the front gently pushed the head butter back. It wasn't a strong gesture of reproach but clearly head butting wasn't approved.
There were only a few staggering monsters now, the field was littered with bodies and the air was putrid with decay.
The two figures with the swords spun away and put them out of their misery with a grace that did not seem fitting in this hell. They were completely in sync with each other, as if they could sense at all times where their partner was.
The black figures fanned out, ignoring Rick and the others except for one. The one standing in front of them of them was the second largest as far as Rick could tell. Now that they were closer he could see that one of the figures inspecting bodies was very tall and very broad. Rick shifted his attention to the one right in front of him. There was a gun seated casually in their hands. Not exactly in a threatening way but it didn't give Rick much comfort. These people were a veritable Swiss army knife of weapons.
Rick, Daryl and Michonne stood side by side, cautiously waiting. Rick took stock of his team. Both seemed unhurt but he could sense the fatigue running through the pair of them. It had been a long day of no food and no water on top of a battle for their lives.
Daryl swayed visibly on his feet. Out of nowhere one of the figures was behind him, a steadying hand at his elbow. It was the one with the blood spatter on the helmet.
Daryl shoved them away, his stand defensive. Rick hoped Daryl could keep a hold on his temper long enough and didn't react in his typical cornered-animal way.
Rick heard the figure curse, the first time he had heard any of them speak. They seemed to communicate silently.
The helmet came jerking off and a brunette ponytail fell out. "What was that for? I was trying to help!"
Rick didn't know what he had been expecting but this disgruntled young woman wasn't it. Daryl couldn't have looked more surprised if it turned out she was a unicorn.
The figure in front of Rick sighed and took off his helmet. "That's enough, Corporal." He was a tall man and solidly built his skin dark with an ethnicity Rick couldn't identify.
The woman looked suitably chastised but she shot a glare at Daryl all the same. The other three figures returned.
One by one they removed their helmets and said "all clear" to the big man. It was clear he was the leader. Their accent wasn't American. There were two women and three men total. The men had all switched to guns but the women still had their swords out, pointed at the ground.
"Corporal?" Rick questioned.
The big man stepped forward with his hand out stretched. "Sergeant Nathan Nodea, Australian Army, at your service."
Rick couldn't believe his ears. These people were foreigners and had come from outside the country. "The world fell! We heard the world fell too," he insisted.
"I'm here to tell you different."
Rick took the man's hand, shaking it slowly. "You and your people saved us, Sergeant."
"Nathan's fine. No need to stand on ceremony. I hear the world ended after all," Nathan said with a smile.
"Rick."
"Well Rick, let me introduce my Corporals." Nathan gestured his people forward and Rick was struck by how clean they looked. Especially compared to him and his. Daryl especially had weeks of forest hunting all over him.
The one Daryl had shoved, shifted her helmet under her arm, freeing a hand to offer to Rick. "Corporal Mara Slater. Call me Mara." After Rick shook her hand she offered it to Michonne and then, with a slight hesitation, Daryl. Daryl took her hand gingerly, clearly a little embarrassed knowing he shoved a girl.
The other woman was of Asian descent. "Christine Bui," she said simply, in an accent identical to Mara's, leaving off her corporal title. She didn't offer her hand. She gave the survivors a cursory glance before turning her attention to the forest surrounding them. Unlike Mara her sword wasn't hanging loosely toward the ground, it was still poised in case of any threats.
If Christine was distant then the next Corporal was the exact opposite. "Yussuf Mlela." He held out his hand with a big grin, his teeth startling white against his dark complexion.
This time Daryl hesitated for just an instant before taking his hand. If Yussuf noticed that pause he didn't show it, greeting Daryl with the same friendliness he showed Rick and Michonne. For the first time Rick saw a ripple of emotion through the group. Mara gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, an amused smile on her face.
The final member of the group was the giant Rick had noticed before.
"Corporal Elias Switch." He spoke softly and politely.
Rick supposed they didn't pose them any threat. At least not yet. The magnitude of the situation washed over Rick and the relief he felt almost floored him. He looked at the bodies piled around him and realised he'd become desensitised to these walking horror films.
He also realised how many of the bodies the Australian's had killed. He had never seen such a large group of walkers dispatched like that.
The Australians were looking around too. Not with the same sense of gravity that Rick was though.
Yussuf eyed the bodies with a grin. "'Strayla style."
One hour earlier, Georgia
Mara was leaning against a tree, not the most professional position for a corporal but she was struggling in the heat. She had not expected that. She was from Australia for god's sake. But this heat was different, foreign even. Narrowing her eye she looked down at Yussuf squatting in the dirt. He was mouthing something.
"What are you doing, Yussuf?" Mara asked from her post against the tree.
Yussuf's lips stopped moving silently and he squinted up at her with a smile. "Praying."
Mara pushed herself away from the tree with a raised eyebrow. "I've known you for a year; I've never seen you pray once."
Yussuf shrugged. "About to wade into a group of spooks seems about time to pray."
Mara couldn't argue with that kind of logic.
Elias looked up from a map that he was examining with his sergeant. "Who are you praying to? Allah?"
"You're so cute when you try and understand my religion."
"Please, you're as secular as they come," Elias scoffed. Elias was the strong and silent type but Yussuf could coax repartee out of anyone.
"I like to keep my options open," Yussuf replied with a laugh. Elias shook his head but smiled all the same. Nathan's attention hadn't been diverted from the map. It would take more than the banter from his team to distract him.
"You sure we have to go through that prison, Sarge?" Mara asked. She was less than impressed with the idea now that they had spotted that flock of spooks. Not even moving fast; just kinda grazing like dumb rotting cows.
Nathan nodded wordlessly. "I'd feel better if we could scope it out in advance but I don't like separating the group just yet."
"Guys!" A voice from above got their attention.
Nathan walked to the base of a particular tree. "Christine?"
"You see something, my little tree monkey?" Yussuf asked.
"If you were all paying attention instead of chatting, you'd see what I see." A pair of binoculars dropped down into Nathan's hand.
Mara could barely see her friend and colleague, obscured by the branches.
"People." Nathan said simply. Not a man of many words.
"People people?" Mara asked, swinging her sights towards the spooks. She couldn't see anything for a second then she saw people moving low to the ground, towards the herd.
"Fuck!" Mara whirled away to find her helmet. Lucky they were already suited up. These were the first people they had seen since they touched down in America a week ago and separated from base camp.
The rest of the team followed her lead. As they headed to the crest of the hill they saw the first arrow nail the spook.
"Good aim," Elias noted casually, not at all like they were about to head into battle.
"Better than Mara's anyway," Yussuf added, testing his bow quickly.
Nathan could see the tiny group was about to be over run. "Move fast, stay tight."
"Oh captain, my captain," Mara muttered under her breath at the less than rallying speech from her sergeant.
Christine heard her comment and the edges of her lips barely quirked in a smile as she pulled her own helmet down. Christine was Mara's best friend. When they had both shown an affinity with a sword they had been put together as training partners and despite their different personalities they had developed a closeness.
Yussuf clapped her on the shoulder as he walked by her. And then there were some people in the group that had just worn her down until she had grudgingly let them into her affections.
The men were the archers of the group and they created a formation with them at the front and Christina and Mara bringing up the rear. The boys had the muscles to send the arrows further than Christine or Mara ever could. Mara had also done pretty poorly in archery lessons.
Mara looked down at the spooks and felt excited. The standard issue uniform was impervious to the snarling mouths of the walkers. It gave her a strong feeling of invincibility. She could tell the rest of her group felt the same way to some degree or another.
Nathan slipped on his helmet. They were mobilising. As Elias blasted the horn to get the spooks attention, Mara smiled.
Daryl wasn't rightly sure how he felt about this new group. They were military which sure was useful but the way the world was these days he didn't know how much he could trust these strangers. With their own army over run he supposed his country was just ripe for the claiming.
He narrowed his eyes at their backs as they walked in front of him talking to Rick. They didn't look much like an invading force to him. They didn't even look like tried and tested soldiers, except maybe the Sergeant.
Daryl was bringing up the rear, and kept darting suspicious looks over his shoulder at the forest. Could be the Governor had seen the herd, taken them for dead and gone back to the comfort of Woodbury. Daryl had a hard time imagining that though. Any man smart enough to earn Merle's allegiance was someone Daryl was cautious of. Probably he was just out there, biding his time and plotting his revenge.
The young brunette he had shoved, Mara, turned to check their rear and managed to catch his eye. The look she gave him wasn't hostile but it was pretty reproachful. The Asian one had also shot him a pretty cold, calculating look or two. Daryl ignored it. He was never that popular with women straight up. He struggled to moderate his way with words and usually ended up pissing them off or offending them whether that was his intention or not.
The one who bothered him most was that Yussuf guy. And it wasn't because he was an Arab neither. Daryl was the first to admit that he had held some prejudices before the entire world had gone to shit but after a year fighting to survive he had come to the conclusion it didn't matter none whether a person was white, black, purple or whatever the hell Yussuf was.
No, what bothered him was that inane grin. No one with a full grasp of the situation grinned like that. He was indiscriminately cheerful, talking to Daryl the same way he talked to his Sergeant or to Elias.
Normally people wrote him off as a red neck and fair enough, he looked the part and often spoke the talk. Yussuf seemed totally oblivious to how he was supposed to react and what everyone's place in the world was. Guess it was nothing to be afraid of but he did find it disconcerting.
Mara snuck another wary look over her shoulder. There it was though. The disdain he'd been seeing every day of his life since he was old enough to look for it. Mara wasn't even American and she knew how to spot hillbilly.
The prison was up ahead and Daryl felt a rush of affection for the place 'cause it felt like coming home. It had nothing to do with the filthy cells or the reeking walls of that trap. It was the people inside. Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Carol, Beth and Carl. He wanted to see Ass-Kicker again. He called her Judith in front of Rick though he didn't seem to pay her much mind anyway. She was the first baby he had seen up close, that anyone had let him near before now.
Carl and Carol were at the gates waiting, the faces displaying all the shock Daryl's face probably had when the soldiers had appeared.
He had to admit that when they first showed up, with his brain and body overwrought with fatigue and death nipping at his heels, he thought they were angels. Or maybe reapers was the more accurate term.
Carl had seen Rick and was hollering for his dad and a few walkers loomed closer to investigate the movement and sound. They didn't get a chance to sample any of the living at that moment. The gate slid open and shut before any of them had managed to take any more than a few lumbering steps.
The Australians began examining their surroundings immediately and Daryl realised he had underestimated their training due to their informality. Shit, what did he know? Maybe at the end of the world there was less stress on regiment.
Carl was enveloped in a hug from Rick. Carol grabbed Daryl's face between both hands and inspected him frantically for injuries. The sun was dipping below the horizon and they'd been gone longer expected.
Daryl blushed from the attention though he couldn't deny that the fact someone cared that much about his well being was a pleasant changed.
Still he brushed off her hands gently. "Quit fussin', woman," he mumbled. Satisfied to see that Daryl was being Daryl, Carol glanced at Michonne and nodded. No one felt comfortable invading Michonne's personal space yet. Lucky her, Daryl thought.
Forgotten in the initial rush of relief and greetings the Australians were soon back in the spot light.
"Why don't you come inside and meet everyone. I imagine you have quite a story to tell."
Daryl kept his expression mild but he registered some shock. Rick had been a detached prickly bastard since Hershel's farm had been overrun and he'd been forced to kill Shane. It'd only gotten worse sine Lori died. He hadn't taken kindly to strangers since. It was a miracle that he had let Michonne in and that was from sheer force of usefulness. She could be a sullen bitch sometimes but damn she was deadly with that sword. It was another miracle to see him invite the Australians in so quickly.
Daryl guessed it was the cop in him. Some part of him still respected authority in the grander scheme of things. Daryl had been on the wrong side of the law enough times that he was wary of the so called 'man.'
Nathan looked up at the prison before glancing behind him in to the forest one more time. "I imagine we do." He gestured with his hand to get Rick to lead on. Daryl turned fully to look into the forest. He didn't know what the Australians expected to see riding out if its depths. If walkers weren't enough to make them bat an eyelid then he didn't know what was making them all skittish. Probable he didn't want to know either.
AN2: Couldn't mention this earlier because it was kind of a spoiler but this is based on a theory my housemate and I have that Australia quite possibly could have avoided the outbreak. I am Australian (yes, I ship my own country) but I'm going to try and create clear, distinctive voices for the two nationalities.
MD666