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I Aint No Godfather

There was a chill to the air, a breeze that rustled the leaves and the hairs at the back of Daryl Dixon's head. He adjusted the strap of his crossbow that lay against his chest and squinted out into the sun. It was daylight- late afternoon. The concept of hours had long disappeared, although if he had to guess he'd say it was about four or five. He wondered what month it was, what day. It was autumn- he knew that for sure. The leaves hadn't started their change yet but he could taste the difference in the air. But was it early October yet? Merle's birthday was in October. October 11th to be exact.

Daryl idly wondered whether he'd miss his own birthday. It was such an odd thing to consider, missing one's own birthday. The Dixon's were never big on birthdays; hell, his own father rarely ever said anything. All the same, it was a weird feeling to know that the day would come and go without him knowing.

He supposed the same could be said for all dates that way. Holidays like Christmas and President's Day. No Thanksgiving. The year would change and no one would know. If the world somehow pulled through and civilization re-started itself, how would they know the number of days passed? Had someone somewhere kept count? Daryl placed a hand on his forehead. It was useless to dwell upon these sorts of things. The world was over. The months didn't matter, nor did the time. People would age and that would be that. Assuming of course they'd last long enough.

He watched Herschel and his younger daughter piling firewood down in the pit. The fire burned bright, a source of warmth for Lori, her son and Carol who sat around it chatting quietly. He momentarily wondered what they spoke about, but quickly put it out of his head. Fires in the day, out at night. How backwards their world had become. They had to stay hidden against the walkers. Just because they couldn't see didn't mean the walkers couldn't see them.

He remembered how terrified he was of the dark as a child. How his brother would lock him in the cellar for hours just to torture him. Merle took great pleasure in his pain- it was something that Daryl did not quite understand as a child. How could you say you loved someone on second and then break his wrist the next? After a while, he stopped questioning Merle's motives and just took it in stride. That's just the way things were.

There was a grunt behind him and Daryl whipped around, his hand reaching for the knife on his hip. They hadn't seen a walker in days- it was about time that one of them showed up. He was mildly surprised then when Rick pulled himself over the edge of the wall.

"Christ, you wanna make a lil more noise instead of sneaking up on people like that? I thought you'se a walker," Daryl exclaimed. Sliding his knife back into its sheath he dropped down into a crouch, eyes scanning the surrounding area for the eventual walker.

"I thought noise was a bad thing. I'll have to keep that in mind though," Rick said, coming to stand beside him. "I thought you could use some company up here."

Daryl grunted, choosing not to voice his thoughts. He was perfectly capable of keeping watch by his self. But if Rick wanted company; well that was different. It was useless to deny him of that these days with Shane gone. He suspected that Rick was at a loss for whom to turn to. Better him than T-Dog, really.

"See anything?" Rick asked after a moment.

"Nah. Noting but the Chinaman giving it to his lady there. He's got some balls doin' it with her father so close," he responded dryly. Rick snorted.

"Everyone copes differently."

Daryl glanced up at him.

"You did the right thing," he offered. Rick placed a hand over his eyes for a second. Daryl could see the pain of remembrance washing over his features. Exhaling sharply, the redneck cast his eyes elsewhere, letting them settle on Carol as she pulled her sweater tighter around her body. She was loosing weight- he could see it in her cheekbones and shoulders. He made a mental note to watch her when they ate later. If she had stopped eating and got sick she would drag the group down when they got on the road again. They already had enough liabilities with the old man and Lori's pregnancy- they didn't need any more weak links.

Rick lowered himself onto the edge of the wall, his feet dangling under him. Daryl watched him out of the corner of his eye as he fidgeted with his wedding band.

"I think Lori's angry with me. She… she refuses to talk to me. She doesn't get it- she doesn't see how Shane had turned. He was a threat to this group. To Lori."

"I think she knew more than she let on," was all Daryl said. Rick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"It's too much," Rick said. He sounded exhausted, which was to be expected all things considering. "How is one man supposed to protect and lead a group of people to safety while still maintaining his marriage and being a good father? Something's going to suffer."

Daryl opened his mouth to point out that things had already begun to suffer. If Rick had paid closer attention to Lori then the animosity that slowly drove Shane mad wouldn't have escalated to that point. Did it mean that Shane would have turned out different? Daryl doubted it. If there was one thing he learned from growing up around his brother it was that people like that are born one way. Circumstances change nothing.

"I need you to promise me something."

Daryl looked up to see the desperation in Rick's eyes. He had seen that look before in Carol's when she pleaded for him to find Sophia. It was the same look his mother had when she tearfully explained to him at age seven that she was leaving and he wasn't coming with her. It was the look of someone who was trapped- drowning with no way out.

He hesitated.

"What's that?"

"Carl. I'm worried about him. His mind is still growing. I can't imagine what kind of effect this is having on his psyche. This is no world that any child should grow up in. All this… running and fear. Not knowing from one day to the next if you're even going to survive."

Not much different from his own childhood really, Daryl thought. And he turned out all right.

"I need someone to keep an eye out for him."

Daryl scoffed.

"He's got his mother for that."

Rick began fidgeting with his wedding band again. The ex-officer seemed to do that when he was worried about something, he noticed.

"Lori and I might not always be there. He needs a male figure to watch out for him. To teach him how to survive in this world." He bowed his head. "Shane was his godfather- silly really, I'm not much of a religious man but Lori insisted on it."

Daryl looked down at the young boy. He had abandoned his mother to help Herschel with the firewood. Rick was right in a way, he had to admit: put a child in these types of situations and it changes them. How intact was his innocence? Had he experienced his first kill yet? It was inevitable that he would have to learn to kill- there wouldn't always be someone around to watch over him. It was hard enough for an adult to survive this world, but a child? It was a wonder the boy had lived this long.

"I aint really godfather material," Daryl told him. Rick laughed for the first time in days.

"No, I guess not."

Daryl scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out the best words. He couldn't be the boy's protector. Singling one person out like that wasn't in the best interest of the group. Rick knew that too- despite the strong bond between a father and son. Watching one person out left others vulnerable. Everyone needed a protector. Everyone needed someone watching their back. Even he did though it was a hard thing to admit. No, he couldn't be the boy's soul guardian, but he could give him a fighting chance.

"I can teach him," Daryl said quietly. "Show him how to hunt and track. Can't always have his ma and pa doin' things for him. He'll have a chance if he gets separated from the group."

He hated putting the thought into the other man's head but it was the truth. Things happened and people got left behind. Shit, they'd lost Andrea. Daryl was still resentful that he had let Rick talk him out of going back for her. She was a tough chick; he knew that. There was no doubt she'd manage against the walkers. But there was more to surviving than being able to kill.

Rick laid a hand on Daryl's arm.

"That would mean a lot to me. I know Carl would appreciate the attention too. The loss of Shane is hitting him hard."

The redneck nodded once and made his way over to the edge of the wall.

"I'm gunna go take a piss. You good to watch?" he asked. Rick nodded back, standing up so he could get a better viewpoint.

"You're a good man Daryl," Rick told him. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by the man's appraisal. Was he supposed to thank him? No, the Dixon's don't thank people, nor do they apologize. Instead, he lowered his head and jumped off the side of the wall. Walking towards the tree line, he threw one more glance over at the boy.

As if feeling his gaze, Carl glanced up, their eyes catching. The kid didn't smile or acknowledge him in any way. He just stared, his eyes finding their way under Daryl's skin. He had seen that look too- the mix of fear and betrayal, the look of innocence that had been murdered brutally before him. It was in that look that Daryl's heart softened a bit and he felt a deep understanding towards the boy.

Growing up in a world of violence made it easy to loose your self, especially for a child at that age. Daryl knew this, because he had seen the same look in his own eyes everyday in the mirror since as long as he could remember.