Author's note: I love domestic fluff! Also, yay for Rick taking care of Daryl! This is my personal headcanon because from what I've seen of Rick, he is the best husband ever and he knew how to treat his lady. At least until she didn't deserve his affections and care anymore. And let's face it. Who deserves Rick's love and care more than Daryl? Am I right? Of course I am! lol
Chapter Eleven
Daryl dozed for the rest of the afternoon. He hadn't been able to relax like this since long before the Turn. Lazy days were usually enveloped in alcohol and drug hazes and filled with fuzzy memories of fights and stupid stunts he would never have gone along with if he'd been sober. Honestly, he wasn't one to lie around, so it felt strange lying there in a bed so comfortable it didn't seem real. Even stranger was the comfort he seemed to take in the soft sounds of pages turning every few minutes behind him.
Rick hadn't left his side that Daryl was aware of. Beth had popped in shortly after Carl had left and her voice asking Rick if he needed anything had got Daryl to wondering how he'd completely lost track of both her and Michonne some time while Jason had been tending to him. Sure he'd had blood rushing in his ears and he'd been so close to just blacking out like some pansy ass bitch, but he still should have known where both of them had been as Rick had helped him to his feet. He couldn't even remember if they'd still been in the same room with him let alone as near as he last remembered Beth being.
In fact, his thoughts still felt pretty disjointed. He was more able to think than he'd been while he'd been doggedly following Dundee's tail home, but he knew he wasn't anywhere near one hundred percent functional and that were he to try to act like he was he would only be putting the others at risk. At least, he would have been if they were still out in the wild and not holed up in the little slice of heaven that the Homestead provided.
Yer losing yer edge, little brother, Merle taunted quietly in the back of his mind. Daryl immediately pushed the thought away. Maybe…if Rick was willing to exercise his ghosts…maybe it was time Daryl did the same.
Slowly, Daryl shifted and wriggled, but a weight on his left foot stopped him from shifting all the way onto his back without twisting his leg at an awkward angle. Unable to see past the blankets over his immobilized shoulder all that well, Daryl lifted his head to look at the foot of the bed. Rick chuckled beside him when Daryl let his head fall back to the pillow in mild and amused exasperation.
"He hasn't left the bedroom since we brought you in. Jason said Dundee was more his dad's dog than his and that the two of them really just formed an alliance when the patriarch of the family passed on. Also said it didn't surprise him that Dundee decided he liked you best." Daryl snorted, but Rick sounded like he was smirking as he added, "Didn't elaborate beyond saying it was the dog's choice and he was fine with it."
"How long was I gone?" Daryl asked.
Rick set his book aside, the sound of the cover tapping lightly onto the nightstand beside him noticeable in the quiet of the room. He got up and snapped his fingers, but Dundee didn't do more than lift his head and look at Rick. "You went off the bridge about five days ago. Carol, Michonne and Carl found you about three days ago."
Daryl tugged his foot out from under Dundee's belly and lifted his head again. "Hey. Get off," he said to the dog. Dundee looked at him for a moment before letting out a very put upon sigh. As the dog slid off the bed like he had no bones he groaned apparently using the bed's height to get a good stretch in. Once on the floor, the dog turned in a few circles before lying down again. Daryl seized the opportunity to stiffly shift and wiggle onto his back.
Rick came around immediately and reached under Daryl, sliding a hand under his back and pressing up in a gentle nudge. Daryl looked up at him for a moment, unsure how to react. He'd never had someone to play nursemaid for him before. Closest thing he could think of was Carol bringing him some food while he'd rested in one of the bedrooms at the Greene Farm after his unfortunate tumble off Nervous Nelly. Rick's expression was soft and patient. Daryl figured he might as well give in because Rick would be unlikely to give up. As Daryl sat up, Rick kept his hand spread gently against the spot between Daryl's shoulder blades offering support as he pulled pillows from the middle of the bed so that he could stuff them behind Daryl's shoulders and back. Those pillows had actually been bracing Daryl on his side, probably preventing him from rolling over and jarring his bad shoulder. Daryl settled back when Rick made to ease him into the pillows and found himself to be surprisingly comfortable.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Only about six hours. Dinner should be done soon," Rick answered and reached over to the nightstand on Daryl's side of the bed, offering him the glass of water that had apparently been sitting there. Daryl looked from the glass to Rick before taking it and taking a ginger sip. "How d'you feel, Daryl?"
Licking his lips, Daryl took a quick inventory of his body and found himself to feel pretty good all things considered. Whatever pain killers Jason had in his stash were doing a good job of masking his hurts. He glanced up at Rick again, just a quick flick of his eyes to catch of glimpse of the man's earnest face through his messy hair. "Fine," he said voice soft and took another sip.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. I said m'fine. Means I'm fine." The words had almost none of the bite they might have held a couple of years ago. In fact they sounded downright reassuring to Daryl's ears.
Rick seemed to accept his answer this time and moved around to his own side of the bed, settling back into his own slightly smaller stack of pillows. He made to pick up his book again, but Daryl's voice seemed to stop him immediately the moment he spoke. "What you said earlier… 'bout Lori…" Risking another quick glance, Daryl saw that Rick wasn't looking at him. Instead the other man stared at his hands in his lap. Silent. "You still see her anymore?"
At least Daryl had his water glass to focus on. It was impossible to look at Rick now, knowing he'd probably just asked a ridiculously sensitive question. When Rick finally did answer, the other man tipped his head to the side and sort of half-looked at Daryl, his voice softer than it had been even when he'd thought he was talking to Daryl while he was sleeping. It seemed to Daryl that there was at least a small amount of shame in Rick's voice when he said, "No. Not for a while now."
It was now or never and maybe with the knowledge that someone else was as crazy as he was Rick might feel a little less ashamed of it all. Daryl found he wanted to do that for Rick. He wanted to make Rick feel better, too. "I still hear Merle," Daryl offered in an equally soft voice. "Not as bad as it used t' be. Not since I put'im down. But every now an' then."
Rick's smile seemed relieved as he reached over and laid a firm hand on Daryl's thigh just above his knee. He didn't say anything, but he didn't react like it was any great surprise that Daryl been hearing his absent brother's voice both before and after Merle was dead. They sat like that in silence for a long time, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to say anything else, and Rick didn't press. It was nice to get that burden off his chest. Rick was probably the best person to understand being haunted by loved ones. Maybe…and this was something Daryl would have cringed to think way back when too, but maybe they could help each other exercise those old ghosts. Wasn't that what people in their kind of…relationship did? A soft knock at the doorframe brought both of them out of their thoughts. Carl and Beth stood in the doorway with trays laden with plates piled high with fresh canned vegetables and baked chicken breasts. The smell filled the room, making Daryl's mouth water. Hurriedly he set his water glass aside, eager to eat after a few days with nothing. Half a bowl of soup didn't count for much by Daryl's stomach's reckoning.
"Dinner's done!" Beth chirped and came into the room the rest of the way with Carl right behind her. She went to Rick and settled the dinner tray over his thighs. Carl moved over to Daryl and did the same. Rick muttered a thank you while Daryl only murmured thanks and then the kids were gone, leaving them to eat in the quiet of the room.
There were two beer bottles laid neatly one to either side of the plate that were chill to the touch and Daryl silently thanked whoever had made the decision to allow him the drinks. He wasn't some pussy ass city kid. He'd grown up drinking beer even when he had the flu. Hops tasted awful on the way back up, but then what man who'd ever gotten shit-faced didn't already know that? Daryl eyed his silverware for a minute, but opted just to use his fingers. He only had one hand anyway. How could he be expected to use a knife? Rick seemed not to mind. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice anything was unusual. Just reached over, picked up a bottle and twisted the cap off before setting it carefully back on Daryl's tray. Daryl immediately swiped up the bottle and took a long pull.
"Now we have a good reason to raid every liquor store in the area for beer and not just the stuff that can sterilize," Rick commented, watching Daryl enjoy the first few swigs before turning back to cutting up his boneless chicken.
"Didn't know you liked drinkin' that much." Daryl's voice was a tentative murmur, the realization that he really only knew Rick's character and not much about the man himself making him hesitant to say something that might insult the man.
"Probably not as much as you're used to seeing, but I liked to go out to the bars out of uniform every now and then," Rick told him with a smirk. Daryl couldn't help the small amused sound he made and that little noise only seemed to make Rick's smirk turn into an actual smile.
They settled into a comfortable silence and when Daryl had finished half his chicken breast, a good portion of the vegetables and all of his first beer, Rick just reached right over and popped the cap off his second bottle for him. Daryl murmured a soft, "Thanks."
Rick nodded once and then finished off his chicken, obviously savoring the juiciness and flavor. Daryl couldn't agree more. There was something to be said for having what to his mind was real food. He couldn't wait to bag his next deer so they could can the meat. Canned venison was the some of the best tasting meat on the planet.
When they had both finished, Rick pulled Daryl's plate onto his and stacked their serving trays before getting up to take them out. Two steps from the bed, he paused and pivoted, socked foot spinning easily on the polished wood of the floor. "Is it okay with you if I bring the others in? I've been told y'have somethin' t'say that the whole group should hear."
Rick left as soon as Daryl nodded. Alone with his thoughts for a moment, Daryl took a swig from his beer bottle. Better to get it over with, he reasoned, and the sooner the group knew the whole and certain truth the better. He'd finished the beer by the time Rick came back all of the others filing in behind him. Rick sat in his spot on the bed again, but left his one leg tucked close and the other foot on the floor so that Carl could sit at the foot of the bed with Judith. Daryl was glad to see her and she seemed glad to see him, twisting around in her brother's arms to stare at him.
The others lined up at the perimeter of the room, except for Jason who squatted near Dundee so that he could pet the dog. It was interesting to see that Carl was the only person under eighteen present in the room. His presence for this meeting and the fact that Rick had allowed him to go out and look for Daryl spoke volumes as to how much Rick saw his only son as more of a young man than a boy these days. Once everyone was still, Daryl cleared his throat. "Those people that attacked us…they weren't after just our gear and the horses."
Everyone fidgeted and cast glances at those standing near to them. The unease in the room was palpable. Feeling uneasy himself, Daryl glanced at Carl – the kid's expression was grim – and then to Rick. The former lawman held his gaze both encouraging him to continue and offering him silent support.
"So what were they after then, if not our stuff?" Jason asked from near Daryl's feet. He looked curious, but suspicious.
Daryl glanced back to the group and shifted, uncomfortable under all of heavy stares. "They wanted us."
"What do you mean they wanted you guys?" Sasha snapped, looking nervous. Of course the women would be upset. They were always targets of predators. Bob reached out and pulled her close to his side. Daryl couldn't hear what he murmured into her ear, but she glanced his way and seemed to calm down a little.
"Now, take it easy," Rick added his own soothing voice. "Let's let Daryl finish before we all go jumping to conclusions. Daryl?"
And Rick's eyes came back to him. Daryl dropped his gaze to his right hand where it rested limp in his lap. "I came to in a thicket. Dun dragged me out of the water. I musta got knocked out at some point. Some of those assholes strolled right by us. Obviously none o' them can track for shit. Probably can't hunt worth a damn. They're too fuckin' noisy. No animal's gonna stick around hearing them tramp around like they were…"
Daryl could see it all again in his mind's eye only this time his head was clear. Those stupid fuckers probably didn't have a choice but to start eating each other and then those that were willing to fall in line helped to bring in fresh meat. They were awkward and noisy, crashing through the fall woods like a heard of drunk elephants.
"What are you trying t' say, Daryl?"
Rick's gentle voice brought him back from his thoughts. Daryl looked over and was met with a deeply concerned frown. Holding Rick's gaze, Daryl murmured, "I heard them talkin' about findin' me cuz they needed to eat."
"You actually heard them say they were going to eat you?!" Glenn sounded shocked and disbelieving.
Daryl fixed him with a piercing look. "That's what I said. The asshole that shot me said the same thing. Told me he'd been camped out waitin' for survivors from the prison t' stumble on through before I blew his brains out. Said he wanted t' prove t' his group that he'd played it smart an' picked a good hunting spot."
"Oh my god," Maggie murmured, looking pale. Beth's eyes were wide as saucers and she took her sisters hand in a tight grip, sidling closer into Maggie's side. Glen laid a hand on each of their shoulders from where he stood behind them. Sasha nibbled on the hem of her sweater sleeve and looked to Bob who just pulled her into a hug. His facial expression as he stared at Daryl over Sasha's shoulder spoke of a man who found himself deeply disturbed by this turn of events.
"So what do we do?" Carol asked into the quiet of the room. "They're moving in really close. What if they find this place?"
"I have bug out plans. We'll go over them and do drills. It's never a bad idea to prep for a worst case scenario. We'll set everyone up with a bug out bag too just to be safe," Jason answered her, but he looked to Rick after a moment of holding eye contact with Carol. "But we need to consider that these are just a bunch of moderately armed thugs. Letting them run us off our land is foolish."
"So you're saying we fight?" the scrappy brunette from that morning asked looking like a scared little girl faced with the monsters under her bed in the bright light of day.
"O' course we fight, Tara. We ain' stayed alive this long by runnin' away," the giant red headed man told her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him and then after a moment nodded. The brunette that had fled from the sight of Daryl's injuries was tucked up tight under his shoulder. She looked serious and nothing like she'd looked that morning. Even tough people sometimes couldn't handle living human blood, Daryl figured.
"How though?" Carl asked and Daryl looked to him. The boy was all business and Daryl felt a small swell of pride that he probably had no right to. Sure he'd spent some time with Carl, but it had been mostly Rick's influence on the boy that had made him so tough.
Beth's voice was soft as she said, "It isn't like they're at our doorstep. We don't know where their camp is. How do we fight what isn't right in front of us?"
"We could hunt them," Michonne offered, finally speaking up. The look on her dark face was fierce. "We got comfortable back at the prison. If I hadn't stopped looking for the Governor, maybe things would have been different. I'm not sitting around and waiting for another tank to roll up to our gates."
It was uncomfortable hearing his own regrets spoken aloud by someone else. It stood to reason that Michonne would share in that guilt. After all, he wasn't the only one that had unsuccessfully tried to find the Governor so that they could put him down.
Jason's response was quick and reassuring. "Ain't a tank in the world that can get to these walls. Too many trees. They'd have to clear a path and we'd hear them coming from miles away. Nothin' bigger than a military hummer's gonna make it back here and even that's a little wide."
"That's good t' know," Rick murmured. He looked deep in thought as he stared at the empty space of mattress between him and his son and daughter, listening to the conversation around him.
"Jason?" the red headed man asked. "How secure is this place if a small army of armed men were to approach?"
Jason rocked back on his heels and looked up at him. "Granddad and Dad built this place with that in mind, Abraham. The fort walls are taller than standard fort walls. I guess they imported the logs when they ran out of the right size out here. Had to have the horses haul them in from the main road cuz the semi-trucks that brought them here couldn't get back this far."
Slowly Jason eased himself upright. "The walls are cemented into the ground about three feet. The rest of the support on the walls are the braces that also support the catwalk around the rim. It wouldn't hurt us to consider building lookout towers eventually but that can't be done fast enough to handle the immediate threat."
"Wanna actually tell us what'll happen if an army of armed men stroll up to our gates now?" the brunette tucked under Abraham's arm drawled. Apparently she was a sassy woman. Daryl made a mental note to steer clear of her as much as he could.
"Rosita," Abraham admonished. "All that's pertinent."
Rosita rolled her eyes and then looked directly back at Jason. Jason shrugged. "They'd have to have ladders or they ain't getting' in. Grenades, incendiaries and fire arrows are a concern. The first ain't easy to come by these days. The last two…now those can be made from scratch but again… supplies ain't exactly readily available out there. Our arsenal's pretty well stocked, so anyone that comes aknockin' with bad intentions is in for a surprise. Offense-wise, we've got lots of ammo, plenty of firearms, and the option of creating small mine-fields around the perimeter if we were so inclined."
"So you're saying we're pretty secure," Rick murmured. Jason looked over his shoulder at him and nodded.
"Yes, sir. Nothin's perfect, but I'd say we stand a pretty good chance against even a small army."
Daryl glanced around the room only to find all eyes on Rick. It was hard not to look at their leader then. Rick was quiet for a long moment more before finally lifting his gaze and meeting everyone's eyes. "Looks like we've got a few decisions to make; first and foremost being who's going to take inventory of our medical supplies. Never thought I'd see another day where I could say we're fine where food's concerned."
The group let out a few soft chuckles, put a little more at ease with the reminder that they were secure here.
"Maggie, Glenn and I will go over our medical supplies," Beth offered with a smile and a quick glance at her sister and brother-in-law. When Maggie and Glenn nodded in agreement, Rick nodded back.
"Okay. Figure we want to make sure we have enough to last us through until next summer. If these guys are as bad at hunting as Daryl says they are, and I trust his judgment, they'll be thinning their own ranks through the colder months." Rick glanced his way, and Daryl dipped his chin a little both in acknowledgement of the open trust Rick was displaying and in the plan. It was a sound strategy. Hole up and stay put so long as they had everything they needed. No sense looking for trouble.
Rick looked back to the group. "Now just because we're safe for now, doesn't mean those men won't try to change that. Jason's already offered up a few weaknesses, but I think we should all start trying to think of ways that we can improve our defenses. We'll hold as many meetings as it takes to make this place as safe as we can. I wanna hear everythin' y'all can think of, got it? No matter how small it is or how uncertain you are about it."
"What if they already know about this place?" Sasha asked, her tone urgent. "What do we do then? They could already be planning to attack. There's a lot of land inside these walls. How do we keep an eye on every corner of the fence, if all it takes to get in is a ladder?"
"Barbed wire," Daryl answered and all eyes turned to him. It seemed like a simple enough solution. "Like at a prison. We put coils o' barbed wire along the top o' the wall. Maybe even light it up."
Jason seemed incredibly pleased with the idea. "We're only using the solar panels to run the house right now. I could rig up the windmills and set aside some batteries to run just the electric fence, but we'd have to make a run into the surrounding towns for supplies. It wasn't something we'd thought to do before."
Rick's smile when Daryl's eyes finally landed back on him after taking in the rest of the group's approval of the idea was heart-stopping. "Good plan, Daryl. That'll be a quicker job and might buy us some time if they do come to our doorstep. We'll get that finished before we start the towers."
Uncomfortable and yet warmed by Rick's support, Daryl looked back down at his hand in his lap and let the rest of the planning go on around him. It wasn't long before everyone set out to start on whatever it was they'd been assigned to do, leaving only Rick, Carl and Judith in the room with Daryl.
"What do we do if we run into these guys while we're getting the supplies?" Carl asked as he set Judith on the mattress between him and Rick.
"Y' shoot first. Never mind about askin' questions," Daryl answered him instead. Rick glanced his way and then nodded.
"We'll have a meeting to decide who's goin' an' what we'll need. I'll make sure everyone understands that we aren't in the business of inviting people back to the house for dinner," Rick told them. "Why don't you take Judith out to her play pen, Carl? Maybe go check up on Mika and Lizzie and make sure everything's going alright. Carol says Mika really enjoys the time you spend with her."
"She also says that Lizzie hates me," Carl muttered put scooped Judith up and stood. "Dad…"
Daryl's eyes turned to Carl from his hand at the uncertain tone that rarely came into Carl's voice. Rick straightened and gave his son his full attention. "What is it, Carl? What's wrong?"
"I saw Lizzie…being mean to one of the baby goats. She was forcing it to lay down and just…tormenting it a bit. Poking at it with a stick and pushing it around."
"Did she hurt it?" Rick's voice was tight.
"No. Mika took it away from her and put it back in the pen with its mom. I couldn't hear what they were saying but they got into an argument and Lizzie stormed off."
Rick glanced at Daryl and they shared a look of concern. Lizzie was a possible ticking time bomb of mental instability. An issue they'd have to address sooner or later. Daryl made a point to purposefully glance at Carl before meeting Rick's gaze again right away. He saw it in those deep blue eyes when Rick got what he was implying. The man immediately turned back to his son. "Carol's mentioned Lizzie seeming off a few times," he offered.
Carl scoffed. "Off? Dad, she's nuts. She thinks the Walkers are still people. That they're just 'different.' She got really, really upset when I told her it wasn't good to get attached to them and that she had to stop naming them because they were dead and not people any more. She majorly overreacted."
"Why don' y' talk t' Mika?" Daryl offered. Rick glanced at him, but didn't ask him to be quiet, so Daryl also suggested, "See if she knows what's wrong with her sister."
After a moment's thought, Carl nodded. Rick reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let me know what you find out, okay? And continue to keep an eye out. We all have to look after each other in this world. Walkers and cannibals aren't the only dangers we could be facing."
"I will," Carl agreed and then took Judith out of the room.
Once he was gone, Rick turned his full attention on Daryl. "How're y'feelin'?"
"M'fuckin' tired," Daryl mumbled and burrowed back into the pillows behind him, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose a little.
"You feelin' that shoulder again yet?" Rick's voice sounded closer and Daryl opened his eyes to find that the man had scooted across the mattress and was leaning his own shoulder against the headboard beside Daryl all but completely invading Daryl's personal space. "You're probably 'bout due for some meds."
Daryl glanced away, nervous in that thrilling kind of way with Rick so close to him. His eyes landed on the water glass and he reached for it. To his disappointment, Rick immediately slid back off the bed from his own side and moved over to the dresser that rested against the far wall. He pulled two bottles out of the top drawer and shook some pills out into his palm. Once the bottles were back where they belonged, he made his way over and took the glass of water so that Daryl could take the pills and pop them in his mouth. The rest of the glass of water went down with the pills. When Daryl had finished, Rick took the glass, setting it back on the nightstand before he perched next to Daryl on the edge of the bed. Daryl picked at the edge of the blanket that covered him to the waist, glad Rick had been willing to help him into a tank top before securing his arm in the sling. He'd have felt a lot more vulnerable in only a pair of cotton sleep pants.
"Are you really doin' okay, Daryl?" Rick asked softly, ducking so that he could catch the hunter's eyes. Daryl immediately raised his eyes to meet Rick's, drawn as he always was to give the man his respect.
"Yeah. Jus' tired an' sore, man." Daryl's heart skipped a little as Rick shifted, leaning forward and bracing his near palm against the headboard of the bed on the far side of Daryl.
"Good. I'm done losing people." His voice husky, Rick leaned in just a little closer.
"I already told ya. I ain' goin' nowhere," Daryl murmured back and tipped his chin up. Rick erased the space between them in the blink of an eye. Daryl's right hand came up to cradle the back of Rick's neck, shivering when Rick's free hand slid up under his tank to cup the side of his waist. Rick's palm was hot on his skin and he felt a tingling heat pool low in his belly. Rick kissed him breathless, leaving him panting when he finally drew back a bit. Eyes the color of a clear summer sky just before dusk searched Daryl's own pale blue gaze for a moment before he smiled.
"I'm glad you kept your promise." If Rick's voice had been husky before he sounded damn near hoarse now.
"I had t' return yer gun," Daryl teased, feeling strangely desirable. Rick's smirk made the bottom of his stomach drop. The man looked damn near predatory.
"Thanks," he murmured and leaned in to drop a kiss to the corner of Daryl's mouth. Warm lips trailed over Daryl's cheek until they brushed against his ear. "But I wasn't worried about the Python. All I cared about…was you."
Gentle teeth nipped at his jaw before Rick simply leaned in and buried his nose against the side of Daryl's neck. Rick breathed in deep, but remained mindful of the injured arm trapped between them. They stayed like that for a few long moments before Rick's thumb rubbed against the sensitive skin of Daryl's side making the redneck squirm and make a noise that was like a cross between a whimper and a grunt. "Don't," he whispered. It wasn't a snap. More of plea, if Daryl Dixon were ever to plead with anyone.
Rick chuckled and slowly pulled back. "Who'd've thought rough and tough Daryl Dixon was ticklish," he murmured and leaned in to press a lingering but chaste kiss to Daryl's lips. Daryl pressed into it until Rick pulled away. "I'm gonna go getcha a refill on that water. Need anything else?"
"Naw." Daryl shook his head and slowly let his hand slide from the back of Rick's neck. The loss of contact wasn't a happy thing. In fact, when Rick leaned back and rose from the edge of the bed, Daryl found himself almost immediately missing the other man's nearness. It was a strange feeling, actually wanting someone so close.
"Be right back," Rick told him with a small smirk. He turned and Daryl watched him walk out of the room. If his eyes lingered on Rick's ass until the man was out of sight…well, that would stay between Daryl and Dundee.
TBC…