Daryl was back.

Thank God.

Rick had never been much of a religious man. Certainly not by the standards of rural Georgia, anyway. He might have been slightly more inclined than some of the city dwellers he used to meet straying out of Atlanta, but he never could quite tell if that was genuine faith or habit of upbringing. One thing was sure, however, and that was that he considered whatever capacity he might have had for the practice long since retired after Lori's death. But when he saw the hunter – his hunter – coming up the path to the Alexandria gates well, damn, if every thought in his head wasn't finding some way to thank the Almighty.

"Open 'em. Open the gates!" He yelled, hurling himself down from the platform. The impact sent a pulse of nausia through his muscles that reminded some part of him how little he'd eaten or slept for the last few days. No matter.

Daryl was back.

His heart was beating that same fevered pace it had adopted the day Saviors had first found them, and refused to cease since. How it managed to maintain such an insistant flutter for so many days, especially on so little fuel, was far beyond Rick's understanding. Fear had become so ubiquitous by now, particular pricks of pain and sorrow losing their character and fading into a terrible ambient noise, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be dominated by it again. Life after the outbreak had never exactly been relaxing, but at some point along the way he thought he'd learned to disconnect from the worst of it. In a world with this much death you couldn't even survive, never mind lead, without putting some distance between you and the corpses that trail behind you. He'd thought he could deal with the inevitable loss and still keep something like a level head when he needed to.

But what Negan did to Abraham, to Glenn, that shook him in a way he hadn't anticipated. The former had been a behemoth of a man, surely invunerable to everything but the very tanks he looked designed to command, while the latter was a father who'd now never meet his child and Rick's oldest friend in the apocalypse. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. Perhaps some poetic part of Rick had started to think of all this as a story, maybe a trial by fire, or some perverse game perhaps, but ultimately something with rules. Something they could win if they just worked out how to play it right. Except there was no reason or rhyme to Abraham or Glenn's death. They'd both deserved to survive to a ripe old age, could have survived, and that opportunity had been taken away on some bastard's whim. It was a corruption of whatever narrative Rick thought he'd built. They died for nothing, a grim reminder that reality doesn't always punish you for being too weak or two stupid, sometimes it just punishes you 'cause it can. Rick had got too used to winning. He'd let himself take the group and its strength for granted, let himself think that they'd finally mastared what this think was, and he'd lost people he loved because of it.

Still, it wasn't the first time Rick had fallen victim to his own overconfidence, and he's lost more family members since the apocalypse than he'd had in a lifetime before it. He might have held out against the Saviors anyway, however reckless and brash and downright stupid it might have been. Negan cowed him into submission for a night, but Rick's conviction could move mountains and boil the seas and Negan was just a man with a baseball bat. Hard to say now, and not much point wondering, he figures, but he could have found the strength of will to fight him, maybe, despite all the threats and all the danger. Once he'd got home, talked to his people and made a plan, it could have happened.

If only they hadn't taken Daryl. Negan was a depraved monster, but hell if he wasn't a shrewd kind of evil. He'd known what he needed to take to keep Rick loyal. Somehow, he'd seen in seconds what it had taken Rick years to see; Daryl was the key to Rick's mettle. Maybe it was his cop training, maybe it was in his psychology, but Rick had always had a right-hand man. With Daryl by his side, Rick could do anything. It was the cocky self-assurance that he could be locked up by cannibals and still certain he was going to win. If the two of them had gone home together that day, a counterattack would have been in the works by sundown.

But without him? Knowing he was held, somewhere, his future and safety dependent on Rick's every move?

Well, Rick wasn't getting any big ideas, that was for sure.

Rick had wondered if Negan knew the whole truth of it. Had he only thought he was kidnapping the enemy's lieutenant? Had he any inkling how much more Daryl was to Rick? There had been a moment - one hellish moment - where he'd felt certain he was seeing the hunter's beautiful face for the last time before Lucille took away one of last goddamn divine things in his life. And that's just it - Daryl was divine. 'Cause maybe Rick had no need for religious appeals anymore, but maybe that's just 'case he made do by taking all those ragged shreds of faith and wrapping Daryl up in them instead. Had Negan known that Daryl wasn't just his best friend and his confidant and his right-hand man (though God, how lucky was he for all that alone), had he known that Daryl was so many more things that Rick couldn't even begin to articulate yet, including his reason to believe again? Had Negan seen any of that in the torment in Rick's face? Had he known that - in that moment - Rick would have given up it all? Submitted to anything and everything, served Negan till death did they part, if it would keep Daryl safe?

Probably not, but whatever Negan had though, his actions had been enough. Instead of planning for war like he should have been, like Michonne and Maggie and everyone else wanted him to be doing, all Rick had been able to do was play along best he could, desperate to keep Daryl from harm. When his mind wasn't occupied gathering guns and supplies for Negan, grandiose plans to free Daryl filled his thoughts, because it was damn hard to thing of enough else, but he daren't try any of them. He knew what the Saviors were willing to do. One wrong move and Daryl would end up like Glenn and Abraham, and Rick might just not bounce back from that one.

He was terrified for all of Alexandria too, of course. That's why he said they were going along with Negan's demands. He's too powerful. He's got more people than we do. Too many of ours will die. None of the things he said were a lie. But his last addendum might have been: We can't win. Truth be told, they might. Rick knew his group was smarter, more resourceful. In all out war? They could do it, maybe. But Daryl would have died. It was a virtual certainty, and Rick couldn't have endured it. To see him executed in front of him like Hershel, or to break into the compound and be confronted by his reanimated corpse? No. He was already falling apart as it maybe he decieved his people, but just a little.

The beautiful upside was that those choices didn't matter anymore.

Daryl was here. He had broken himself out.

He was back.

Michonne hadn't even finished opening the gate before Rick was through it. The expression on Daryl's face probably mirrored his own; awkwardly torn between the urge to laugh and weep openly. He allowed himself both, no point even attempting composure right now.

He saw Daryl's mouth curve in a shy smile that made Rick's stomach positively glow. His eyes swept the hunter's boder for injury and was relieved to see anything he had seemed mostly superficial, although still more than he was comfortable seeing. He was thinner, but not much, and curved muscles still dominated his frame in a way that made Rick's heartbeat quicken in a manner humorously absurd for the situation. In just a minute or two they'd be reunited, and Rick could finally tell Daryl everything. Tell him stuff and thangs he'd been afraid to rush before, but was more than desperate to share now, because he'd been confronted with losing that chance and it's just too damn important to wait a minute longer. Then they could finally plot how to take down the Saviors and do this together like they were meant to and -

A shot rang out.

Somewhere from the trees he heard Negan's laugh, and the warmth in Rick's stomach curdled.

Daryl stumbled forward. For a moment, one blessed moment, it seemed as though the bullet had missed and he took another few paces forward. Rick saw the flash of a mop of hair as he fell towards the ground.

No.

Everything happened at once.

He took off in a run. Begging – praying – that Daryl had only tripped. That the shot had only grazed him and he'd be back on his feet in a second.

Daryl didn't get up.

No. No. No! No!

Distantly, Rick heard more shots flying by him. Heard Negan calling his name, tauntingly. Without thinking – without stopping – he lifted his eyes, and his gun, to the tree-line. The nearest Saviour was twenty feet away.

Rick put a hole between his eyes and kept running.

"Nice shot, Rick!" Negan praised. "But what are you doing with a gun? Here I thought we'd reached a nice little agreement on that on that front. Maybe killing Daryl isn't enough, we'll have to take another one of yours and make sure the lesson really sinks in."

Feeling a prickling in his eyes and refusing to accept the claim in Negan's words, Rick took another shot, barely looking, and somehow downed yet another Savior. More bullets flew by his head. He kept waiting for the one that would get him – kept expecting to feel the pain rip through him, physical pain to overwhelm the torment he already felt – to fall to the ground like Daryl just had, but somehow, somehow, they kept missing. Later he would wonder if they were under orders to miss, but in the moment he felt armored by his own wrath.

"Rick, I'm getting angry now." And he sounded it this time. Clearly, losing two men hadn't been part of the plan.

Rick pressed on, carried by the storm that was driving him forward. Nothing was more important than that man on the ground in front of him. He took more shots, not bothering to check where his marks fell.

He was almost there.

Negan stepped out of the trees, still a distant figure. "Hey, Rick!" he called, as if greeting an old friend.

He was out of range. Long out of range. Taking a shot would be stupid – he only had a few rounds left – but the sight of Daryl's limp body on the ground enraged him like nothing, nothing ever had before and goddamn it if he wouldn't defend him with everything he had. He took the shot anyway.

Suddenly Daryl was in front of him. "Daryl!" He skidded to his knees beside him, tossing aside his firearm. "Daryl, I'm here!"

Daryl gasped for air, "Rick..."

Alive. He was alive.

"It's okay. Daryl." It was everything but okay. Daryl's shirt was soaked so red it was hard to tell where the wound was. He tore it open and cursed to see multiple entry wounds. Once he'd found what looked to be the worst of it – it couldn't have taken more than a few seconds, but it's second I can't spare - he grabbed the shirt again and applied pressure as best he could with his shaking hands.

"Stay with me, Daryl," he pleaded. "It's alright."

"Rick, ah..." His eyes dropped in and out of focus, like he knew Rick was there, somewhere, but couldn't quite see him.

"Shhh. Save your energy." He cupped Daryl's face with his free hand, stroking his beard with his thumb to reassure the hunter of his presence. He tried to force a calmness into his voice he didn't feel, but he could still hear the tremble in his words. "We're gonna get you out of here." He swung round to see Michonne running towards them with a group of Alexandrians. It occurred to him that the Saviors should be upon them by now, but he didn't waste time questioning the respite.

"Ah..." Daryl coughed and Rick's heart chilled to see blood spurt from his mouth. At least the jolt finally let Daryl's eyes focus on Rick's. "Ah... don't think ahm makin it out of this one, Rick." With great effort he lifted his hand to Rick's face and stroked gently, mirroring his own action. "Glad...glad you're here though." He coughed again.

"Bullshit." It can't end like this, no, no, no. It was all wrong. There was so much they still had to do. They had lasted this long, years, they were so close. "Stay with me, Daryl!"

Michonne had arrived and fell down beside him. "Help me carry him," he cried. "Help me." The tears that had started as relief now stained his face as a sodden mess of anguish and terror.

Michonne took in the scene in front of her and let out a gasp. In a fraction of a she saw what Daryl already knew and Rick did too, but refused to admit: Daryl wasn't going to survive this. "Rick...Oh God, Rick..." she whispered shakily, placing a hand on his shoulder as if it could steady the earthquake fracturing his soul.

"No!" A sob wrenched from him. "Come on, Daryl."

"Ahm sorry, Rick." He was crying too now. "Ah wanted to...ah wanted us..." his hand fell back to the ground, overcome with the effort.

"We're gonna be us, Daryl," Rick assured him, "You and me. Way it's meant to me." Motioning to Michonne to cover the wound, he cradled Daryl's head and reverently placed a kiss into his hair. Some rogue suggestion of muscle memory had the nerve to tell him how much he'd missed this and his stomach wretched.

Daryl tried what might have been a smile. "Ahd like that..." His eyes fell closed.

"No! Daryl! Daryl, come on, stay with me. I can't do this without you. Don't leave me. No, no, no!" His actions became increasingly frantic. Hands trembling, he ran his hands through the hunter's hair, kissed his face – his eyes, his ears, his mouth – anything that might bring him back. The lack of response broke his heart. "I love you..."

Rick had thought a lot about how he would first say those words. Late at night on the porch of his house, perhaps. Coming back from a run. In Rick's bed. How they would sound on his lips for the first time. He'd never thought it would be with an air of defeat like this. He'd known the truth of them for so long, too long. Why had he waited so God damn long? Now that he started, he couldn't stop. "I love you. I love you, Daryl. Like no one else. You're everything to me. I can't do this. You hear me? Come on, Daryl." He pleaded against hope, as if any such desperate declaration could reverse time and bring a man back to life. The words that had echoed through his mind for months suddenly felt pointless and empty in light of the agony that was overwhelming him now.

Daryl's head lulled forward in his hands, and he was gone.

Rick had no memory of the events that followed. Later they would be relayed to him, and he supposed he should feel ashamed that he wasn't there to lead, to protect the group when they needed him. But he couldn't feel anything but numb about that day.

Sometime after the event, it would become apparent that the Saviors had been stationed in the woods surrounding Alexandria for a while. They must have known Daryl had escaped right from the beginning. Maybe they'd even let it happen. They'd known where he'd go and camped out and waited for him. Maybe Negan had somehow known just how important the man he'd captured was, because he'd engineered the situation so Daryl would die right in front of Rick's eyes.

The Saviors hadn't, however, accounted for what happened next.

Negan was dead too.

No one could quite believe it at first. Rick had fired at an impossible distance. He was a good marksman, but that couldn't change the laws of physics. No one should have made that shot, not with that pistol. So when red burst from Negan's chest and he fell to the ground, that stupid grin still plastered on his face, no one quite knew what to do. Rick fell to the ground beside the man he loved while everyone else was enveloped in a wave of confusion. Once it became apparent their leader wasn't getting up again, there much have been some conflicting reactions within the ranks. Negan wasn't the only one Rick had taken out either. No one knew exactly how many he'd downed with his erratic run-and-gun technique but, judging by the number of bodies, it was enough to put significant fear in many of the Saviours. Without guidance and suffering major casualties, the Saviors were hesitant to continue aggressive action. Evidently Negan hadn't cared much to make a contingency plan.

The Alexandrians were quicker to react. Led by Aaron, only a couple of seconds passed before the Saviors were under fire. Ironically they had the larger numbers, but were still lost without anyone to co-ordinate their movements. Likely a few of them were wondering who exactly was going to take charge even if they did capture Alexandria. A few raised their weapons again, but the majority ran. It didn't take much to run the stragglers out.

Alexandria stood that day and Negan was dead.

But so was Daryl.

Did it matter?

Did any of it matter? Rick found himself asking for the hundredth time that day.

He held his head in his hands and wondered when would it end. It had been only a week since Abraham and Glenn. Only a week since Daryl had last been in his arms. A week since he'd felt the hunter's hot breath in his ear and seen those blue eyes mirror the same affection he felt every time he saw them. The memories were still fresh, but he'd lost people so many damn times he knew it was only a matter of time before he started to forget. He imagined losing the image of Daryl's face and a tight pressure gripped his throat.

A week since the Saviors had torn away damn near everything that still mattered to Rick.

It wasn't like with Lori. Before – on those dark days when he imagined Daryl's death– he thought it might have been, but it wasn't.

Lori had been an ending. An ending to a story more than a decade in the making. It was awful, horrific, heart wrenching. Lori had been his world for as long as he could remember and losing her had felt like the end of the world. He knew he'd keep going for Carl and Judith, he'd always keep going for his children, but he never thought he'd feel alive again.

But had he felt alive, even with Lori? In this place? Sometime after the turn (though he wasn't even sure it was after) his marriage had become an obligation, like a a responsibility. Lori had loved Shane, he knew it, she just needed Rick more. She needed him too much to do anything about it and he almost hated her more for that than if she'd just left.

She'd been his world, but was it this world? Had he ever felt hope with her, here?

Once, back in the C.D.C., (God, that was so long ago now) he'd told that man, Jenner, that he hadn't. He'd said he believed he was going to lose everything. To Shane, to the walkers, to whatever, it was only a matter of time.

It was Daryl who'd changed his mind. Daryl who'd given him reason to go on. Not just to fight, but to believe. Daryl, who had adapted to this world better than anyone else. Sometimes Rick swore he almost thrived in it. Unlike Lori, Daryl had never needed Rick or anyone else for anything. He could have survived without the group, might've been one of the only ones in the world who could. Yet he'd stood by Rick through it all, even long before those first tentative kisses and wispered confessions. Let Rick feel like he was needed, even though he clearly wasn't. No one in the world could have tamed Daryl if he didn't want to be tamed, and yet somehow he'd decided he'd let Rick get someplace close.

He could have left at any time. Hell, Rick has to admit he probably should have after that first incident with Merle. Half the group still didn't trust him back then, and the rest needed nothing less than baby sitting. But he chose to stay. He chose Rick, first his leader, then his friend, then (oh, God) his lover. And hadn't that been best thing that had ever happened to him. He still couldn't believe how lucky he'd been that it had happened at all. That Daryl, the most intense, resistant, defiant man he'd ever met, and the most beautiful human being, had picked him. He'd knocked Rick's world off its axis and Rick had never even had a chance to tell him.

Where Lori was an ending, Daryl was a beginning. The two of them together, Carl and Judith. They could have made it to the end, and not just surviving. Like a fool, Rick had let himself believe that one day they could have grown old together, and had something resembling a life. Daryl had just seemed so damn invincible that it hadn't ever seemed as ridiculous as it did now.

But it was ridiculous. And whatever dreams he'd had didn't matter anymore. Daryl was gone, as fragile as anyone else.

He wondered if the pit in his stomach would ever close.

Wiping his eyes, he tore his gaze away from Daryl's grave.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I gotta...I gotta go."

Much as it felt like it, the world hadn't stopped to accomodate Rick's grief. Negan's death had been a blow to the Saviors, but he doubted they'd be gone for long. They still had the superior numbers, and Alexandria was a fine prize. They'd be back and, much as he could barely stand upright, it was his responsibility to see the settlement was ready.

"I don't want to. I don't want to do any of this without you."

He rubbed his forehead, somehow still unable to find the words, even though he's been grasping for hours.

"You were never that much for talking, guess that was supposed to be my job. And look," He gestured to the paltry cross in the ground "I guess it still is."

He tried to laugh, but the notion caught in his throat and tasted bitter. Panic siezed him, and he had to pace to calm down.

"I don't know what to say to you. There's nothing to say, right? This is the place were never meant to be. I wish we could've been... God, I wish."

Years of unfullfilled promises flooded before his eyes and he had to strain to block them out, just as he had all day and night, and throughout the entirety of the impromptu funeral that morning. Denial was the only thing keeping him lucid.

"I - I can't. I'm not ready to do this yet. I'm not ready to bury you."

Feeling like the pain in his heart would surely kill him, and in this moment not entirely sure that would be a bad thing, he turned and slowly made his way back to the group.

Somewhere, in a different world entirely, Daryl Dixon's eyes slammed open.

"Rick!"

Hi all! This is my first fan fiction in a long, long time, sorry to end it on such a cliffhanger! The next chapter is almost ready to go and there'll be plenty more after that. I do hope you'll enjoy it. This'll be roughly canon-compliant until somewhere in Season 7, except of course that Rick and Michonne never got together. I haven't watched the entire show in some years though, so there might be some little differences.