.:Homestead:.
There was a happy commotion as Rick stepped through the chainlink fence surrounding the prison, Daryl at his back between him and the stray walkers, his family at his front between him and his home. The congruity of it all was not dismissed by Rick as he grinned wholeheartedly at his loved ones, turning to flash his elation at the man covering his rear and rushing forward through the gate with Daryl at his heels. There was something indescribable about this feeling of amenity and Rick knew there was some analogy in this moment, but was too lost in it to find it.
"Dad!"
Rick's heartstrings tore at Carl rushing down from the prison, holding onto the brim of his hat to keep it in place. Beth and Maggie were at the top of the hill with Hershel, helping him hobble down the uneven terrain, while Glenn restlessly kept pace with them. Carol and Axel were at the fence's gate, holding it open for them and shutting it tight once the two men had entered, and Oscar was trailing behind cradling Judith.
Bounding forward, Rick met his son halfway and pulled him into his arms to squeeze him tight. "Carl…"
"Hey, Dad," Carl said, muffled in Rick's chest. He squeezed his thin arms around Rick, pulling back when his sheriff's hat started falling off and smiled up at his dad. Rick grinned back down at him and jostled his hat, musing Carl's long hair and causing him to jerk back to fix it.
"It's about time you two showed up," started Carol from behind them. She was smiling at them both, relief apparent on her face, but there was a chiding tone to her words.
Axel stood next to Carol, seemingly where he was beginning to be the most at home, and piped up, "We all thought you two was gonna be back yesterday."
"Yeah, where were you guys?" Carl questioned, looking up to Rick.
"Hunting," gave Rick, an emphasis in his inflection indicating quite pointedly that he wasn't going to say anything further about it. Carl was visibly put off, as was Carol, and the two then looked expectantly to Daryl for their answers. Daryl looked hilariously unsettled under the inquisitive spotlight, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking away from the demanding gazes.
"Two days to hunt?" Carol rose a thin eyebrow at him, almost accusatory in her face and body language.
"We got caught up in somethin'," came Daryl's quiet but gravely response. Carol's eyebrow only rose higher at Daryl's piteous and inadequate offering, which he shied away from by looking to Rick helplessly. Rick was torn between laughing good-naturedly and helping the guy out somehow, but settled for watching their interaction go on.
"'Sides, it was only a day 'n a half, woman," he added, the unspoken 'get off my back' practically resounding in his speech.
Carol huffed, amused as she swatted Daryl's shoulder like they were lifelong friends in the midst of their usual banter. "Well excuse me," she sassed, rolling her eyes at them both before giving Rick a meaningful look. He sighed inwardly, knowing what that look entailed - it seemed as if he still couldn't be alone with his friend without getting the third degree from someone, despite Lori no longer hovering over them both.
Even Carl seemed desperate to get the scoop on their hunting trip and Rick couldn't say that he blamed him much. As competent as the group had become in the past year at surviving and dispatching walkers, going out on runs and hunts were still regarded as dangerous. To leave the others in the dark while Rick and Daryl spent the night out on their hunt was something Rick knew was going to worry the others half to death, and as necessary as it was, it didn't help the stabbing guilt in Rick's gut. Worrying his people wasn't something Rick ever wanted to do, but worrying his son downright devastated him. Carl staying up all night, wondering if his dad was coming home or not, just killed Rick.
Turning to his son, he offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting, son."
"S'alright," he shrugged and tipped his hat at Daryl and his dad, leaning back into a facade of composure and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I took care of the place while you two were gone." Daryl snorted and whacked Carl on his back, shoving him gently, and received a playful punch in return from the teen. Rick grinned to himself as he watched the two start to wrestle, ending with Daryl grappling Carl into a chokehold and Carl trying to squirm his way out.
"Can't weasel yer way outta this, kid," Daryl laughed lightly, eyes twinkling and lips smiling. Rick's found himself chuckling with him as he watched these two that shared his heart goof around and laugh together.
The usual pang of guilt tainted his joy as it sunk in just how much Lori would have their heads for this - Daryl for being so surly, Carl for rough housing, and Rick for just watching, laughing. His humor faded and he thumbed his wedding ring for the second time in recent hours, swallowing a strange lump in his throat as Daryl instructed his son how to fight his way out of a chokehold.
In the middle of Daryl showing Carl how to drop his weight, however puny it was, Carol spoke up and caused the the two men to freeze.
"Daryl, where's your poncho?"
Carl slipped from Daryl's grasp in the interruption, smiling and laughing in his victory, but stopped at the hunter's usual scowl. Daryl turned his frown on Carol and for a moment, Rick worried about what rude offhand comment was destined to be flung from the other man's mouth towards her. Did nobody else pick up on when Daryl didn't want to talk about something? It seemed so obvious to Rick, all of Daryl's not-so-subtleties, but it seemed he was the only one savvy to them.
Before Daryl could spit whatever he had planned to, there was a shouting towards them.
"Hey!" Glenn called, catching the attention of everyone around. "Finally! You guys get anything good?" Maggie glared at him and flicked his ear playfully, eliciting a sharp 'ah!' from Glenn who tried to duck out of the way from any further attacks.
"Welcome back, guys!" Beth chirped as the four of them came close.
Rick and Daryl were grateful for the disruption and nodded at their welcoming faces, all smiling and happy to see the two alive and well. "Hey," he greeted. Hershel nodded back at him and shooed away his daughters supporting hands, balancing himself on the abundance of dead grass beneath his crutches.
"Jeez, we thought you two had skipped town or something," teased Glenn, a wide smirk dancing on his lips and in his devious eyes. He raised his eyebrows tauntingly as he said, "Something happen out there? Ow!"
Maggie flicked him again, which he swatted at this time. "Could you be any less oblivious? They just got home, let 'em relax, would you?"
Glenn muttered to himself and rubbed his earlobe tenderly, pouting a little as Rick and the Greene family chatted. Out of the corner of his eye, Rick watched Daryl approach the sullen man with two racoons, held by their long and bushy tails, which brightened Glenn's face significantly. After the incident, Daryl had insisted that they wouldn't return home empty handed, despite their streak of dangerously bad luck on the hunt, and had managed to bag two large racoons.
A smirk had been plastered on Daryl's face when he dislodged the arrows from the two rodents, but there had been barely-hidden remorse gracing his features since the loss of their turkey. Rick knew that his drive to come home with something, anything, was derived from his sense of loss at having to sacrifice their first kill together, wanting to compensate for their lack of game.
"Sup, man," said Oscar as he approached the gathering, offering Rick's baby girl when he came close enough. Rick's heart skipped a beat at his daughter's sleeping face, slack and innocent and beautiful, and happily took her from him. He thanked Oscar genuinely and tucked Judith into his body heat, hoping to shield her sensitive skin from the bite of the winter air. Beth and Maggie were smiling as they watched on and Rick felt Daryl's presence come close, far closer than normal, to look at Judith over Rick's shoulder.
"Hey, Lil' Asskicker," Daryl cooed quietly, voice startingly close to Rick's ear. He hoped the jump in his heart rate didn't disturb his baby girl as Daryl fawned over her, still just barely within Rick's personal space.
There was merry conversation as the group congregated up the hill and back to the prison, grass crunching beneath their feet barrenly, Daryl never straying far from the Grimes.
"Rick," Hershel spoke, drawing his attention away from his and the Greene girls' conversation. Worry etched his wrinkled face and dripped from his heavy words and he stopped his laborious trek up the hill, staying silent enough not to draw too much focus to them. "What happened to your arm?"
Rick paused, looking from Hershel to Daryl, not wanting to make that information known just yet. Instead, he shrugged and casually said, "Oh, it's nothing bad."
Daryl gave Rick a narrow look and Rick knew immediately what he wanted. "Wouldn't hurt to get it looked at," Daryl insisted, dragging his gaze from Rick's blue eyes to Hershel's worried ones. Wordlessly, Rick pleaded for the other man to leave it at that and was pleasantly surprised when he did. Hershel nodded knowingly, telling him he'd come check on him later, and was quiet the rest of the trip to the prison. Rick tried to smile at Daryl, tried to show him how thankful he was that he didn't pursue the issue, but the hunter wouldn't meet his eyes.
"You're lucky Daryl was there," Hershel chided as he dabbed flaming alcohol into Rick's open skin. He winced at both the searing pain and the deflating reprimand, knowing Hershel was justified in his chastising but was already sore all over from kicking himself.
"Don't I know it," Rick sighed, more to himself than anything. The self-depreciation bled to his features and dripped from his voice, this sense of fault was a major factor why Rick didn't care to disclose their minute by minute trip of just the two of them, along with numerous other embarrassing reasons. His family was nothing if not inquisitive, clinging to any sort of normalcy in their gossip and drama. Anything that wasn't decaying or trying to kill them was refreshing anymore, and something most of them desperately vied for.
Hershel pulled back at Rick's tone, eyes scoping his face as his fingers paused. "I don't care to scold you, but I mean it, Rick. You could've lost a lot of blood from this," at that, he dipped the cotton cloth into the laceration at Rick's shoulder, spreading pain throughout his arm. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
Rick didn't respond immediately, biting his tongue as Hershel cleaned his wounds and made to dress them. Hesitantly, he looked to the old man and spoke, "We ran into other survivors out there."
There was a falter in Hershel's hands, but no other reaction came from the older man and he remained quiet, waiting for Rick to continue. "Weren't exactly the friendly type, neither. That's what gave me this." He shrugged his left shoulder in indication, accidentally jostling Hershel's cleaning, and carefully gauged his reaction. There wasn't much of one in his gray face, just a hard look and a calculation in his eyes.
"Did you try talking to them?" Hershel's words were slow and measured as he spoke.
Rick heaved a sigh. "They didn't exactly give us the chance. A herd of walkers kept us in a broken down car all night, and come morning, these two guys had us trapped in." He wasn't looking at Hershel as he recounted their night out, eyes distant and reaching to remember what he could about their encounter with the strangers.
"We managed to get away thanks to that herd, but one of 'em tailed us with a gun 'n nicked me," he continued.
Hershel sat back and asked, "What happened to them?"
"Dead."
A solemn voice came from behind them, muted and grave, and drew their attention towards the doorway where Daryl stood with a sleeping Judith nestled in his strong arms. His footsteps had been practically nonexistent in the echoing stone cavern of Rick's cell so Rick had no idea how long the other man had been standing there.
"They both are," Daryl finished, voice unforgiving and defensive. "Didn't give me any choice."
Silence filled the space between them, Hershel threading dental floss through a curved needle and Daryl looking to Judith as he bounced her gently. Rick felt a wave of relief flooding his senses at finally bringing this problem to light with someone, especially considering that someone in particular wasn't any type to lose his head over something. If anything, Hershel was a good guide of conscious and morality to counsel him through this stressful conundrum and the outlet was purely cathartic for Rick.
"Were there any more of them?" Hershel asked as he held the needle over a candle flame to warm it, turning it over and over.
"None that we saw there." Rick ran his hands over his face haggardly, weaving his long fingers through his increasingly bushy beard. "But from the sounds of things, they got themselves a group somewhere, led by some guy who calls himself 'the Governor'."
Daryl cleared his throat. "N' they had guns on 'em. Some heavy artillery."
Exhaling, Hershel raised his eyebrows at the news and dipped the metal into his petri dish of alcohol before raising it to Rick's broken skin. Rick tensed and bit his lip at the all-consuming sting of the hot needle pricking through his inflamed skin, trying to focus on the conversation at hand to dull the pain. Daryl was watching Rick now, a shade of worry coloring his face at Rick's apparent discomfort, but made no move to come any closer.
"This worries me, boys," Hershel breathed, hands steady and practiced as they looped the strange, tingling, minty thread through Rick's opening in his shoulder. He vaguely regretted turning down the pain killers Hershel had offered him before this minor surgery, but knew they'd just be a luxury someone else needed far more than him.
Rick sucked in a breath and tried to keep the pain from showing on his face, doing his damndest to sit still. Hershel seemed to notice and gestured to Daryl.
"Son, I'm gonna need you to hold him down, if you can."
Daryl froze, eyes wide and appalled as if Hershel had just asked him to hold down a walker. No, Rick corrected mentally, he was positive he had seen the other man restrain a walker with far more enthusiasm and less misgivings than was on his face right now. Hell, he acted as if wrestling with things trying to kill him was a hobby of his compared to being asked to hold Rick.
Bouncing the sleeping baby sheepishly, Daryl said, "Looks like yer doin' just fine without me, old man."
Hershel's thick eyebrows rose at Daryl's biting response, pausing his stitching to rebuke, "Looks like Rick's not gonna heal properly in that case. Being the one performing surgical care, I can tell you this would be a lot easier if someone held Rick's arm still."
Awkwardly, admonished, Daryl turned to the small crib in Rick's cell and gently laid Judith down as if she were made of precious glass, taking his sweet time to tuck her into her blankets and brush her forehead lovingly, stalling. His attitude was far less tender as he straightened and came to Rick's side, holding his left arm clumsily without looking at him. His grasp was skittish and vague as if he were trying to keep Rick's bare skin on his own minimal, arms extended their full length from Daryl's seat on the man's bed.
Rick might have been both parts offended and amused by the situation if not for the thin piece of metal currently jutting from his throbbing skin in an arc and the creeping icy hot sensation from the peppermint floss.
"Like this?" Daryl asked apprehensively.
Smiling lightly and with one hand keeping the needle in place, Hershel used his other hand to direct Daryl's tentative ones, guiding them to a more secure position on Rick's forearm and shoulder blade. The change in position had drawn Daryl closer, leaning in slightly, and the two men wouldn't look at each other. Hershel seemed to notice and chuckled at these grown men acting like schoolboys, eliciting a growl in return from the tense hunter.
"That's better. Thank you, Daryl. This'll go much faster now," Hershel thanked and continued his work. Daryl muttered a "thank God" under his breath and Rick, being close enough to hear the younger man's words, smirked. Daryl was normally so aloof, his demeanor that of a feral lone wolf, and it cracked Rick up to see him so wound tight.
He tried to ignore the pull in his gut and thudding in his chest that reminded him just how equally affected Rick was by their proximity.
"Now, Rick," Hershel started, shifting his weight to angle the needle in Rick's tapered flesh. His voice became serious once more. "This news is deeply unsettling, and worries me a great deal between this herd and these men you ran into."
Rick tried to listen intently, but his battered shoulder was pulling at his attention, muscles twitching each time the needle plunged into his skin. Daryl's hands tightened their grip on his body and Rick couldn't keep himself from recalling the feel of these same hands on his skin, featherlight and maddeningly teasing trails of strange burning need into his arms just yesterday. Swallowing his embarrassing memory, Rick tried to sit still under Daryl's firm grip.
"It's does my heart no comfort knowing these men are now dead - "
Daryl's head jerked up, eyes blazing and interrupting. "I ain't sorry they're dead. They deserved what they got."
Hershel looked from him to Rick and tried to ease Daryl's snarl. "I'm sure they did. I'm just trying to consider the ramifications if their comrades find them dead on the side of the road somewhere. Did you at least hide any indication that you two were involved?"
Shrugging, Daryl hung his head and told Hershel about the arrow still lodged in the one man's skull and how they had to make a quick escape due to the walker horde. Hershel grew grave as he tied the end of the dental thread into a miniscule knot, Rick's skin now laced together properly, and began dressing Rick's stitches with gauze. The candles flickered in the room, adding an eerie atmosphere to already tense retelling of Rick and Daryl's story.
"What do you propose we do, Rick?" Hershel asked, looking to their leader.
Rick's eyes rose from examining his bandage to looking between his two companions, considering exactly what he wanted to do. "We're gonna barricade what we can - the fences, the towers, everything, and keep everyone inside the walls except for runs and hunts. I don't want anyone getting blindsided out in the yard or in the forest like me n' Daryl were."
"Are we going to tell the others?" Hershel questioned.
"I think it'd be a bad idea not to."
Hershel raised his hands, almost pleading with Rick. "I agree that they need to know, Rick, but please. Consider doing it after Thanksgiving."
Taken aback, Rick's brow furrowed at the gray man. "What if we don't get that long?"
"Like you said, we'll barricade what we can," Hershel insisted, continuing to argue against telling their family of the two men and their Governor. Rick couldn't fathom keeping everyone unaware of a potential threat, but felt like he knew why Hershel was so determined about it. "Please, Rick. Thanksgiving's just a few days away and I'd hate to see all this cheer go to waste. We haven't had something to look forward to in who knows how long."
That was it, Rick knew. This desperation for normalcy had everyone in better spirits since their time on the Greene farm and Rick found himself torn in crushing them with reality or not. Practicality and sentimentality were at war now, and Rick tried to weigh the pros and cons of each, leaning back to consider where Hershel was coming from.
On the one hand, it was dangerous to let their guard down and lose their edge, a fact made very clear in his outing with Daryl, proof that the unknown would take advantage in their happy bliss. On the other hand, Rick couldn't bring himself to regret his and Daryl's time together and the closeness it brought, peril be damned. It wasn't a feeling Rick was acquainted with any more and was dying to embrace it, this overwhelming sensation dammed by Rick's preservation of the unknown. To take this happiness away from his family felt cruel.
"What do you think?" Rick asked, turning to his friend next to him on his bed.
Daryl had long since put plenty of room between them but remained seated on the cot. He pulled his knee up and laced his fingers around it, looking thoughtful, and eventually answered, "Ain't much reason to keep fighting if ya ain't got nothin' to fight for."
Rick was momentarily shocked at his answer and how out of character it seemed for him. When they had first met, Daryl had come off as little more than a feral dog who only knew survival for survival's sake. Whatever had changed him, Rick was incredibly grateful for it. He vaguely wondered if whatever it was that had moved Daryl was what was currently moving Rick, as curious as it was, and his heart leaped at the idea.
"'Sides, we don't have the ammo to equip everyone with firepower anymore," Daryl noted, leaning back next to Rick with a grunt.
Sighing, Rick turned his head to him and said, "So, what, we keep them in the dark?"
"I ain't sayin' that." Shrugging, Daryl bit at his thumb cuticle in his stress and Rick resisted the sudden urge to stop him, baffled by where that compulsion came from. "It's up to you, man. I'll be there with ya to tell 'em if that's what yer gonna do, though."
There was a warmth flowing from Rick's chest to his small smile and he couldn't keep looking at Daryl. He noticed Hershel's onlooking, wrinkled face watching their interaction, but was feeling too dizzy to care much. It wasn't often that Rick heard someone support him so unconditionally, and he couldn't fight the sensation blossoming in his heart at the faith in him. It wasn't that Rick begrudged Lori, Shane, Glenn, Hershel, everybody for constantly second guessing him and had even come to expect it thrown from every direction relentlessly, but it was always astounding how loyal Daryl was to him.
It was that same warmth that made up Rick's mind.
"Alright," he emit, exhaling through his nose and already starting to worry over his decision. "We won't tell them yet. We'll wait until after Thanksgiving, after we've got more ammo and gun power. No sense in causing a fuss when we don't even have enough weapons to go around."
Relief flooded Hershel's face and he beamed at the two on the bed, collecting his medical supplies to leave now that he heard Rick's judgement. "Thank you, Rick. I'll come around sometime tomorrow to check your stitches. Try and stay off that arm, alright? Don't want you ripping them, it doesn't seem like either of you want to be doing this again."
Rick and Daryl looked at each other and quickly turned away at Hershel's words, causing the old man to chuckle deeply as he gathered himself onto his crutches and left the cell. The two men sat in silence, alone with the baby at the side of the bed, and Rick cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You really think this is a good idea?"
Daryl was quiet for a moment, still keeping his eyes from Rick and still chewing on his thumb. "Think we'll find out."
Scoffing, Rick tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Can't say that helps much."
"What, you want a hug instead?" Rick didn't have to see the other man to know he was smirking and grinned back, knocking his elbow into Daryl's side playfully. He could always count on Daryl to joke around and spit sarcasm at the worst of moments, when Rick needed a straight answer, though he couldn't bring himself to consider it a fault.
"Pfft, do you even know what those are?"
Daryl elbowed Rick back, gentle and considerate of Rick's injured arm, saying, "What's it to you, Grimes?"
Rick opened his eyes and turned his head to face Daryl, basking in that strange happiness that filled him in these moments. He didn't respond, instead falling back into silence, albeit far more comfortable than moments ago, and just gazed at his companion. Daryl was watching him as well through his sharp eyes and dangling bangs, looking guarded yet expectant. There was a churning in Rick's stomach that he couldn't quite ignore as he gradually leaned in, Daryl tensing and remaining as still as a statue.
The two nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of Judith crying herself awake, needing some kind of attention.
Releasing a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding, Rick hurriedly leaned forward and plucked his noisy daughter from her crib, cradling her in his good arm tenderly. There was some movement to his left as Daryl scooted to the edge of the bunk, hunched over and awkward and avoiding Rick's eyes all over again.
"You want me to take her?" he offered, twiddling his thumbs.
Rick felt something sinking in him and tried to ignore the odd disappointment in his stomach. "Nah, man, I got her. Why don't you go get some sleep?"
Daryl shook his head jerkily and got up, stretching his arms up until his back popped. "Don't need it. If you got Asskicker, I'm gonna head out and take tonight's watch." Rick wanted to protest, to argue for Daryl's health, but he knew exactly where he'd get for all his efforts and shut his mouth. Instead, he opted to rock Judith to calm her and watched Daryl start towards the door, touching Rick's bedside table as he walked away.
Before Daryl stepped through his cell door, Rick called out tentatively, "Goodnight, Daryl." The man stopped in the doorway at Rick's soft-spoken words, but didn't turn to face him before he departed.
"G'night."
Somewhat sullen, Rick cradled his baby back to sleep, her teary hiccups slowing until they ceased entirely. With his daughter finally back dozing in his arm, Rick got up, feeling overwhelmingly restless, and walked a small circle around his cell until something small caught his eye. It was where Daryl had grazed his nightstand. Curious, Rick drew closer until, with a fluttering heart, he realized why Daryl had reached out to touch the table.
Two tiny little ibuprofen pills, indistinct and unassuming, lay on the table's surface like much a welcomed and much needed hug.
