Rick woke up the same way he had woken up every morning in the last four months. Alone. Holding on to the last remnants of a dream where everything had turned out differently, as long as he could. Keeping his eyes closed. Maybe, just maybe, he could go back to sleep for a little while, go back to a world where Daryl was still sleeping by his side, was still very much alive. It had never worked before. It didn't work now. Sighing, Rick rubbed his eyes. Then he sat up.

The room was lit up brightly around him with the slanting early spring sun. Daryl had loved waking up in this room because it faced east. He'd usually been awake long before Rick, and had gone and sat in the window, letting the sun warm him, watching the sleeping street below. Every morning when Rick had opened his eyes, there they were, Daryl's eyes on him. Until one morning they weren't. And each morning since he remembered this first night alone, the first waking up in the big bed by himself.

That first morning he had woken up to an overcast sky. There had been a thunderstorm during the night, but Rick, heavily sedated, had slept through it almost completely. He'd awoken once, briefly, disorientated when a clap of thunder had seemingly crushed the house beneath it. He'd been sure later that Daryl had been right beside him when he woke from the thunder, that they'd been asleep in each other's arms like so many nights before. But he knew that was just a drug-induced hallucination. Rick cherished it like a memory.

Now he got up and padded over to the bathroom. He'd done the same that first morning. Then, he'd been wearing jeans and a shirt, which nobody had bothered getting off him the night before, and both of which had been covered in blood. Daryl's blood. There had been so much of it, seeping from wounds too numerous to count, yet each one burned into Rick's soul for eternity.

Another memory that Rick wished wasn't a memory at all, and yet one that he would never let go if such a thing was offered. Daryl dying in his arms. His eyes seeking him out, struggling to see him through the encroaching haze, through the pain, the brain no longer getting enough oxygen. Blood pulsing from wounds with every heartbeat. Rick had felt the life slip away beneath his hands, literally felt it running through his fingers, seeping into the ground, into the fabric of his heart.

Rick stripped off his sweatpants and T-shirt, then turned on the shower. There was no blood on his clothes this morning. Stepping into the hot water another memory hit, prickling. The one and only time he and Daryl had had sex in the shower. It had been steamy and hot, as expected, and Rick wondered now why they'd never repeated the experience. Now they never could.

For a while after it had happened Rick had contemplated asking someone else in the house to swap rooms with him because the memories were so constant, and so painful. But after a few weeks he had realized that he could no longer even picture Daryl's face unless he was in their room. He didn't even have a photo of him. He'd kept the room.

Rick dressed without much thought to what he was putting on his body. He had loved watching Daryl getting dressed in the morning. There had always been such an urgency to it, a sense of anticipation to finally get out of the house, this confined space. Rick knew Daryl had never really settled in Alexandria, not like the rest of them had. He'd become better at tolerating it, and who knew, he might have gotten used to it, eventually. Now Rick knew he himself would never get used to it. He'd never get used to any place again, because none of them contained Daryl.

These days Rick was the one who couldn't wait to get out of the house. As much as the reminiscing had become a part of his life, as much as he needed it, each time he did it another piece of his soul died. By the time he was dressed in the morning he was usually ready to smash everything around him to pieces. Better to face the day ahead then, which did not usually contain Daryl's ghost. The memories were easier to deal with as long as Rick kept busy.

_._

There were people in the kitchen. Carl was feeding Judith, who had recently started to toddle. Rick smiled at their interaction. The others took turns having the baby sleep in their room. Rick had tried having her a few times, but she was a fussy sleeper now, and the little rest he got was so precious that after a few mornings of Rick looking like he hadn't slept a wink Carol and Carl had taken over coordinating Judith's care. Rick spent time with her every day, but he always got to a point where the memory of Daryl cooing over his li'l asskicker brought tears to his eyes. When he got to that stage someone always noticed, and took the baby off to bed, or for a feed.

Carol poured him a cup of coffee and motioned him to sit at the table. "Sleep alright?"

Rick nodded. He took the coffee and drank it automatically. Coffee was still a wonder to them all that had to be cherished, and each supply run had it on the list of essential items. Daryl had loved coffee. He'd usually taken the first cup out onto the veranda, drinking it slowly, savoring it like only Daryl could. Sometimes he'd have a smoke with it, for which Rick had always told him off if he caught him. Thoughts of harsh words made Rick feel guilty, so he drained his cup, pushed the plate of toast away that Carol had placed in front of him and got up.

"I'll go round to Deanna's. We've got some plans to finalize about this week, and we're expecting Aaron back with the new group today."

Carol frowned up at him. "No breakfast?"

Rick shook his head. "Not today, no."

The others were giving him looks, he knew. Every morning he was under scrutiny, watched for any indication as to his state of mind. He didn't blame them, he'd've done the same. These last four months had been hard for them all, dealing with Daryl's death, and with their leader being so thoroughly devastated as to be completely useless to them. In a way, Rick had been grateful to be where they were. The burden of keeping his family alive would have crushed him out there in the wild. But out there Daryl had been with him; and had they stayed away from this honey trap none of it would have happened.

He had to get out. With a curt nod in the general direction of the group Rick strode over to the door and all but wrenched it open. Today was not a good day. Rick hurried down the path, then walked quickly away from their home, and Daryl's ghost.

_._

Work at Deanna's was dull that morning, but necessary. There was damage to some stretches of the wall, and supply runs to find replacement parts had to be organized at highest level. Rick and Abraham pored over maps and plans for an hour, then Rick suggested they go and walk the perimeter, to check that their calculations made sense. There was no real need for this, they'd gone over the figures several times already, but these days being indoors for any length of time was as impossible for Rick as it had always been for Daryl.

He didn't know whether it was in response to losing his lover that his mind and body had decided he needed to spend more time outdoors, or whether it was his normal reaction to any loss. Rick remembered dimly that he'd had similar urges when Lori had died, but other than that he couldn't recall feeling like this then. When Lori had died Daryl had been there to help him. Now Rick had nobody to take on that role. Not that he expected it as his right, but the devastation was the greater for not having a strong pair of arms to hold him when the loneliness became overwhelming in the middle of the night.

Abraham looked at him with concern as they walked along the wall. "Something you gotta get back to?"

Rick looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"You're running like there's a fire somewhere. You got somewhere to be? I can finish off on my own if you're in a hurry."

Rick shook his head, slowing his steps deliberately. "No, got nowhere to be. Let's do this."

_._

When they got back to Deanna's after about an hour there was a small group of Alexandrians waiting on the front porch. Deanna was talking with Aaron, her face looking worried. Aaron spotted them first and came down the steps. Rick had a feeling he wanted to head him off.

"Something the matter?"

Rick looked at the leader of their scouting outfit. Aaron had become a good friend since that first time they'd met in the barn, and he understood better than most of the others what Rick was going through. He and Daryl had become friends, and Rick knew that Daryl had trusted Aaron completely. He had spent a lot of time in the other man's company since the night of Daryl's death. They didn't speak much, but Rick could tell now how impeccable Daryl's instincts had been. Aaron was good people.

Aaron looked uncomfortable, and a little puzzled, Rick thought. He stopped in the middle of the path, and while he didn't lay a hand on him Rick could tell that Aaron wanted to prevent Rick from entering the house.

"Nothing's the matter, Rick, not… really. I brought the group in, the one we talked about? They seem decent people, for the most part. But there's something I want to explain, before you meet them…"

At that moment the front door to Deanna's house opened and Rick could see two men stepping through. He watched the one in front come down the steps from the porch, and in his cop's eye assessed him like any stranger he met. The man was in his mid-40s, about 5'11, slim build. His dark blond hair was quite long and could have done with a wash. He looked like they had all looked after months on the road.

The man now addressed Aaron. He had a slight foreign accent Rick couldn't immediately place. "I don't mean to be rude, but we've been waiting an awfully long time. Some of us haven't eaten in days. And frankly, you people are weirding me the fuck out…"

Rick looked at Aaron and then back at the man. Something was off. Aaron looked more uncomfortable than ever, but he wasn't looking at the man who had spoken. Instead, his eyes were flickering nervously to the second man, who was half hidden behind his companion, then at Rick.

Rick took a step closer, trying to see the second stranger more clearly. He looked very much like the first man, in his dirty clothes and matted, straggly hair, which was a shade darker than the other man's. He wasn't looking at anyone, but kept his eyes on the ground, biting his nails and moving from one foot onto the other nervously. Rick stepped closer still.

"Rick…" Aaron was trying to catch his attention, but Rick held up his hand. He tried to catch the second stranger's eye.

"Do… do I know you from somewhere…?"

The stranger finally looked up, and Rick froze on the spot. For a long moment he just stared. There were many differences, yes. His posture was unfamiliar, and his hair was very different, but despite it all… Rick's heart skipped several beats and his breath caught in his throat.

The stranger had Daryl's face.