We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout,

We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out.

I'm goin' to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around,

Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson,

Look out Jackson town.

8:07pm and the sun was beginning its late decent, bring an end to the hot Georgia day. The rolling plains spread out for miles, dusted lightly with clusters of forest life here and there. Rick drove silently, accompanied by the light sound of public radio, the tune foreign to him but calming all the same. He took in a deep breath as he watched the road materialize before him, trying to sooth out his frazzled nerves. It had been an early day at the station, a rare treat, as his quiet town found no need for disturbances. He could have gone straight home but the prospect of what would greet him there was not at all enticing. So, the sheriff's deputy decided to take a detour, winding through the peaceful backwater roads before darkness engulfed the land. It was no secret to his friends and coworkers that he was having issues at home. His wife Lori, as beautiful as she was strong, demanding his thoughts on every little detail of their conjoined life. It wasn't as if Rick were surprised, that's what married life is after all. Yet, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed at times, his job requiring that he stay calculated and collected and returning home to be expected to flip a switch and be nothing but an emotional and intuitive husband. It was just too difficult sometimes, to go from one extreme to another and it appeared in his work ethic that he was better at the former rather than the later.

Rick drove, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while his opposite elbow rested on the window sill, its connecting hand running thoughtlessly through his curling hair. While the matter did plague his mind, there was no swirl of guilt nor worry, only an iry, low fog that settled over him like the calm before the storm.

He had been driving for about 30 minutes, switching on his headlights as dusk approached and deciding to run on the next adjacent road he found to loop around and finally head home.

What happened next took him completely by surprise. A flash of a quick form along the driver-side's front end and Rick was slamming his foot down on the brake pedal as hard as he could. The sound of squealing tires rose above the grinding noise coming from his engine and the twist of metal that encased it as he painfully and instinctively cranked the wheel. His car, fuck his family car, spun sideways in a dizzying turn before coming to a halt, smoke emitting from beneath the hood and clouding his vision. Rick sat stock-still for a moment as the panic that had erupted through his veins settled. Taking off his seatbelt, the officer forced open his door, which provided some resistance, and exited the vehicle on weak legs. He waved a hand in front of his face to clear the fuming smoke from his vision before taking a step back.

His Chevy Cavalier (Lori's choice of a family vehicle, not his) was dented in at the driver's side, the hood a mangled mess of oils and ruined car parts. The front tire was bent inward, cancelling any plans he had to drive home. Stepping around the littered car wreckage, Rick followed what looked like drops of blood to the other side of his vehicle. He grimaced when he saw what had caused the accident, a deformed pile of guts and fur, the remainder of what he guessed had been a beautiful doe. Inspecting it closely, Rick tilted his head slightly when he noticed something out of the ordinary. What appeared to be the shredded remains of an arrow, smeared with crimson, wedged underneath the dead flesh of the animal.

Rick had just crouched down to get a better look when a voice made him jump, "sonofa' bitch!"

He whipped his head up and searched for the source, only to be greeted by the sight of an angry looking man approaching him on quick and determined steps, "Tha's my deer!"

The officer surveyed the man, feeling an aura of aggression from him and noticed the crossbow slung over his broad shoulder.

The man's sleeveless shirt revealed sweat slicked skin, his torn and battered jeans looking well worn and used. As he came closer, Rick couldn't help but notice the dirty blond locks clinging to his forehead, matted with dirt and grime. This man had clearly worked hard to find this deer, his agitation not at all surprising but still unsettling.

Rick still didn't know why he did it. Accepted a ride from the man who was clearly not fond of him in any matter. He couldn't exactly explain how it led to this. This awkward silence settling over the confined space of the other man's pickup cab. Rick watched the calm scenery develop into city limits. Wandering eyes occasionally seeking out the form beside him. The deputy truly could not fathom why he had instinctively jumped at the other man's -Daryl he had learned- offer.

Perhaps it had been the knowledge of the outcome if he hadn't accepted, a 5 mile walk back to town. Or maybe, he had been eager to examine the man a little more thoroughly- something he would fiercely deny. Because why should he? I couldn't be Daryl's striking physique. Or his dazzling eyes. And definitely not the fact that Rick found his straight forward and sharp attitude to be refreshing.

No, he would never admit to being charmed by any of that.

After the stranger had struggled through the clearing to the road and over to Rick's wrecked car and even more demolished hunt, Daryl had been in a fume. Simmering down with the seriousness of the matter, however, the hunter had introduced himself and apologized for the shittiness of the situation. His words, not Rick's.

Together they pushed the car off the road, abandoning the disemboweled carcase. He wasn't worried about leaving his car, explaining to Daryl that he would call his insurance company in the morning and get the thing towed in the morning. The man had then offered him a ride back to town.

It was now that he was confined with him in close proximities that Rick truly felt uncomfortable. Before it had been a leeriness, an instinctual warning to tread softly around the angry stranger. He had seemed dangerous then, a potential threat that Rick took caution in handling. Now, every small tick about the man caught his eye in an enticing way. He watched Daryl tap his long, dirty fingers on the steering wheel in an unfamiliar tone. Rick noticed the long beads of sweat trail down his impressive biceps, leaving soil encased rivulets on his pale skin. He admired the sharp angle of Daryl's jawline, thinking how his body appeared to be carved of marble.

He had to shake those thoughts from his head, hating how easily they had infiltrated his mind. He was a married man and no amount of fighting with Lori could bring him to cheat on his wife, much less with another man. Sure, the idea of telling his savior of sorts to find an abandoned field to pull into rather than taking him home was tempting. They could easily park the truck, exit the vehicle and climb into the bed and fuck like- 'stop. Stop right there Grimes!' Rick mentally smacked himself.

He felt his face heat up with where that trail of thoughts almost led. He sounded like an idiot, even to himself. Especially to himself.

Rick focused on keeping his gaze out the window, no need for any further distraction as they made their way through his small town. Daryl seemed to be a local, knowing generally where his house was when he told the man his address. It didn't take long however for the pair to pull into the driveway and it was with a quick muttered thanks that Rick rushed to exit the vehicle, a settling panic in his stomach. He feared what he may say or do if he sat next to the enticing man any longer. Yet, as the stranger drove away, he wished that in another life, he had had a chance to know him further.