This came to me as I'm scouring over footage from the series in hopes of putting together a fanvid and I was captured by the interactions between Daryl and Rick. I will only ever write them platonically, but if anyone should take them in the slashy direction, I can definitely see where you're coming from. I wanted to delve a little more, but it didn't fit in this piece. Hopefully more flashes of their friendship will come through in other fics. Written 'cause I'm not all Caryl, all the time, but I am all Daryl. ;-P
Simplistic by MissMishka
DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories embellished on a little more than the show may do. Not for any profit.
"I've never been blind to my brother's flaws and he never tried to hide who he was from anyone. For any reason."
Rick's head snapped around to stare across the darkness of the camp to the place at the edge where Daryl sat sharpening his buck knife. He hadn't expected the redneck to talk. He never expected much from Daryl Dixon, which was why the Sheriff supposed the other man was always surprising him.
Still, Rick would admit if pressed, that he had sought out this man's company above the others in the group. Despite it all, there was a distinct lack of drama about the redneck that was calming in these times. A shrink would probably point out something about the correlation of the roles the two men had been involuntarily cast in. Rick was the supposedly fearless leader they all looked to while Daryl was the hick loser they mostly overlooked. But the Sheriff was quickly learning that the other man was likely to be the only one amongst them all to have an actual chance of dying from old age in this new world.
He'd seen the redneck hunt. Track. Kill. Laugh. Fight. Yell and panic. He could just as easily imagine the man surviving all of this. And the thing that got Rick most was the knowledge that it was all just more of the same for Daryl. This man had as little to lose or live for in a world filled with Zombies as he had had in a world of 'humane' beings, but live is just all he knew to do. The first impression, influenced by meeting Merle beforehand, was that of a simple mountain man, but Rick was learning there was a difference between "simple" and simplistic.
"Merle, though," Daryl continued into Rick's musings, "he wasn't a fucking moron. There were some lines he knew best not to cross."
It wasn't clear yet, but Rick suspected where the man was leading with this. Everyone who could still find themselves capable of speech since the events outside the barn had had something to say about Shane's actions. The Sheriff had had questions and comments hurled at him in anger and tears, all demanding he take action against his friend. His own shock at Shane's actions had made that a bit hard.
So much for thinking he could escape the recriminations by slipping from the tent and Lori's tense silence.
"What we did today wasn't right. Having it forced on the group like that…" Daryl trailed off there and Rick tensed in wait of the rest.
It didn't come, though.
The other man just left the words to hang there and replay in Rick's mind as he tried to finish the redneck's thinking.
Silence settled over them again, interrupted only by slight crackling from the dwindling campfire and the rhythmic rasp of steel blade over rough whetstone. On the surface, it brought the quiet that Rick had been seeking, but underneath it presented a quandary he hadn't the energy to process.
He couldn't say how much time passed like that before his head started to dip forward.
"Wouldn't do that out here if I were you," that voice rasped from above him as a steel toed boot nudged him none too kindly in the leg. "Lots of things got stirred up today. Not safe out in the open."
Instantly awake at the words, Rick's eyes locked long enough with Daryl's to get the gist of the statement then he began to review their surroundings with new care. It wasn't paranoia that had him suddenly sensing a weight in the air that indicated trouble coming. If Daryl said it wasn't safe, then the Sheriff had no doubt that something was out there in that darkness watching and waiting for it's chance to make things worse.
"I'll take watch," he said, clambering to his feet, hand instinctively going to the pistol on his hip and flipping the barrel open to make sure all six rounds were loaded.
"Ya ain't worth shit tonight," Daryl said with a snort and disgusted shake of his head. "Sleep. They'll need you all bright-eyed and bushy tailed again come morning."
He watched the other man climb nimbly up the ladder to the top of the RV that was their preferred watchtower. The hunter's stealth was something Rick had to admire, thinking how he himself probably would have set the trailer to shaking and wakened Dale at the very least when his feet hit the roof. As it was, Daryl was up there, moving like a ghost as he did a quick visual sweep from every corner of the Winnebago.
"Time's gonna come," the words stopped Rick as he had turned to re-enter his tent for the night, "that you're gonna have a hard choice. Are you gonna be able to see what's the truth or keep buying the bullshit 'cause you think he's got your back?"
The answer to that question wasn't as hard to come to as it maybe should have been, but Rick didn't let it show. After stilling just long enough to hear the query, the Sheriff slipped quietly inside the tent without giving the redneck another look.
Lori was sleeping curled around Carl and he was thankful for the darkness that kept him from seeing the tearstains on both their faces. The emotionally exhausting day brought him another favor in that neither of his loved ones stirred as he took off his shoes, pants and shirt to sleep for the night. He settled on to his sleeping bag with the knowledge that his family would not be there in that moment had it not been for Shane. Gratitude could be spent like any other currency and he figured his friend had pretty much emptied the bank on this one.
The discoveries of the day were unending and for that reason alone, Rick was ready for the darkness of sleep to bring the day to it's end. As the sleep claimed him he knew that he was only able to rest because of the knowledge that that redneck on the roof now had his back.