When Rick thought about that winter later he was never quite sure how they all made it through. It was a miracle, really, that they lost nobody. There were so many close calls and accidents, hardly a day went by without at least one rush of adrenaline. Rick knew they were also incredibly lucky that nobody got seriously ill. There were infections, sprained ankles and lots of deep cuts, but between Hershel and Merle's remaining antibiotics they dealt with everything.
The months on the road had left their brutal marks on all of them. Looking around him Rick hardly recognized the people he'd first met in that quarry and on the farm. Everyone was thinner and dirtier, with a few more lines on their faces every time he seemed to catch sight of them.
There were also new scars to all their souls, and Rick could see them just as clearly. Lori kept herself averted from everyone's eyes, shielding her belly as if from their judgement as much as from harm. Rick had hardly spoken to her in weeks, and when they did speak, they fought. It was cutting Rick up inside every time he turned away from his wife in anger only to catch his son looking at them with such sadness.
Rick knew the others all knew by now what was going on. Impossible to hide anything from the group when from necessity they all had to stick close. Nobody ever mention it to him, but Rick suspected they all felt sorry for Lori. He spent as much time as possible far away from his wife.
One of the best things to take his mind off his wife's betrayal and his son's unhappiness had become spending time with Daryl. It had taken some time for that arrangement to solidify because the hunter remained suspicious and withdrawn. After the farm Rick had it made clear to the others to give Daryl his space because he had been afraid that the man would still decide to leave if he felt anything but at ease in their company. Rick hadn't told them what had happened between Daryl and Shane, but the others had understood quickly how to behave around Daryl to keep him from looking like he was about to bolt or lash out.
And Daryl had integrated into their group, better in fact than Rick had dared to hope. His tracking skills had been the sole reason why they didn't starve to death most days, and while he still had trouble accepting praise and gratitude he seemed to take some pleasure from his part in keeping their little band going.
The thing most satisfying to Rick had been when Daryl had started asking him along for his hunting trips. He didn't always, and still in fact spent a very large amount of time out alone in the woods, but Rick had noticed how astute Daryl's senses were when it came to conflicts within the group. When he noticed Rick looking grim, or Lori shooting daggers at everyone he'd ask Rick to go hunting with him, and to Rick these were the most restful times during that winter.
They didn't talk much, sometimes not at all. But to Rick, that was a bonus. Out there with Daryl he didn't need to have all the answers. Nobody looked to him for solutions to impossible problems. In the wild the other man was the expert. And Rick relaxed into it. Initially it seemed to cost Daryl some willpower to have him around but gradually he became more at ease with Rick, and also around the others.
Rick had noticed, however, that over the past few weeks Daryl had started to withdraw again into his shell. It was finally getting warmer, but their situation was now desperate. They had picked over the same few settlements several times, going in circles more and more, trying to stay ahead of a large herd that seemed to be getting bigger and closer every day.
Rick wondered whether their current situation had anything to do with Daryl's renewed distancing from the group. They were all under a lot of strain, but somehow Rick didn't think that it was the main reason for this regression. Daryl didn't seem to sleep. It had started gradually but now he volunteered for almost all of the watch shifts at night, and spent all his days scouting alone. Rick was starting to get worried. He'd also noticed how Daryl would pass nearly all his food to Lori and Carl, if he bothered turning up at the fireside at all.
All of this was the reason why Rick had asked Daryl to come out with him scouting now. They needed to talk.
-.-
Daryl didn't want to go with Rick this time. He had an idea what the other man wanted with him, and he couldn't do it. It wasn't even that Daryl didn't want to talk to Rick, he just didn't think he could.
And he had no answers anyway. He didn't know what was going on. His strategy was failing, but he didn't know how to deal with what had happened any other way. When the nightmares had started shortly after the farm had fallen he hadn't even had to think about what to do. The first time he'd woken with a start in the middle of the night, a barely suppressed scream on his lips and covered in sweat, he'd automatically reached for the knife hanging from his belt. That first night all he'd done was pierce the soft skin at the base of his thumb.
Since then he'd defaulted back to razor blades. He'd used these all through his childhood and teens, to crowd out the pain his dad and Merle had inflicted on him. Cutting his thighs, upper arms and torso made the other pain more bearable somehow, made him more complete. It reminded him of what people thought of him. Nobody needed a Dixon, and especially not him.
Back then the cutting had also stopped him having nightmares every time he closed his eyes. It had done so after what Shane had done, too, until it didn't any longer. The last few weeks had been impossible. Daryl had been unable to sleep a single night without bad dreams for weeks, until he finally gave up and stopped sleeping altogether, or near as. These days, he subsisted on cat naps on their car rides, mostly.
He knew it couldn't go on like this. But he was out of ideas. No more coping strategies seemed available. The lack of sleep was making him irascible, and he was constantly on edge. And he was a danger to the others. In this world everyone needed their wits about them at all times. If he made a mistake other people's lives were at stake. But Daryl couldn't talk to anyone about this. He would have to tell them why he had nightmares in the first place, and they would certainly be disgusted by his powerlessness to stop Shane.
Daryl couldn't think straight at the best of times right now, and Rick was adding to his stress by asking him to come scouting.
But there was nothing for it, so Daryl followed Rick away from the cars. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Usually Daryl was at ease around Rick out in the woods. The former cop was good at being quiet, even if he was no great shakes as a hunter or tracker. But today Daryl was too tense to enjoy their time together. He was waiting with bated breath for Rick to say his piece.
Rick seemed to understand this, or part of it. He didn't let Daryl wait for long. They had just walked out of sight and earshot of the others when Rick motioned for Daryl to stop. He turned towards him but kept some distance between them. Daryl was grateful for how much Rick had picked up over the last few months, and how well he was able to read Daryl's mood. Right this moment Rick seemed to understand Daryl needed his space.
The other man's eyes were kind when he spoke quietly.
"I know this isn't easy, Daryl, and I will keep it brief. But we have to talk. Is that ok?"
Reluctantly Daryl gave a small nod. Rick exhaled, then looked away. Someone else might have found this rude but Daryl was grateful not to be the focus of scrutiny.
"Can you tell me why you aren't sleeping?"
Daryl fought the rising panic in his chest. How much would he have to tell Rick for the other man to be satisfied? And how much would he even be able to put into words? He tried to stay calm. He trusted Rick now, he really did. And he wanted the other man to trust him, so he had to be as honest as he could. Daryl tried to speak, and on the second attempt managed a few words.
"Get nightmares. Better t'stay awake."
Daryl could tell that asking the next question also cost Rick willpower. "Is it because Shane… because of what happened at the farm?"
The nod Daryl gave in return required a lot of strength. Rick didn't say anything for quite a while. The thought crossed Daryl's mind that Rick was struggling to discuss this nearly as much as he was himself. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of that, but it made him anxious. Then Rick continued.
"I don't know how to fix… how to make this go away. That's probably impossible. But… Daryl, you need to let yourself sleep. You are barely functioning. If you are worried about scaring the others, don't be. They are concerned about you too…"
Rick broke off and Daryl looked at him then. The other man seemed to be pondering something. Then he looked over at Daryl, and Daryl didn't break eye contact.
"Tell you what," Rick continued. "From now on, sleep right next to me. I'm a light sleeper. If I notice you're having a nightmare I'll wake you, I promise… It's not a perfect solution, but maybe, for now…"
Daryl considered. No, it wasn't perfect, but it might just about be enough for the moment. He felt exhausted and desperate enough to try almost anything. And the fact that Rick seemed to care about him to the point of worrying touched something deep inside him. It felt frightening, unfamiliar, but also strangely nice. Daryl nodded. Rick looked relieved. "Good. I need you, man. I can't do this without your help…"
Rick lowered his eyes, then looked back at Daryl. "I should really let you rest, but… you up for some hunting? We need to get the others something to eat today, even if it's just squirrel…"
"Sure."
Daryl hitched up the crossbow that was slung over his shoulder. This he knew how to do, providing for the group. He followed Rick as the other man walked down some old railway tracks. When Rick stopped after about ten minutes, Daryl caught up and followed Rick's gaze. Just across a boggy expanse of water they could see the huge structure and grounds of a prison complex, extending far in all directions.
